The Dark Night of the Soul
by wildsky
Summary: "If I had foreseen her death and the terrible retribution you would seek, I would never have granted your wish." The Great Purge through the eyes of those who lived it. Uther/Ygraine.
1. The Wish

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **The title comes from the song of the same name by the incomparable Loreena McKennitt.

**The Dark Night of the Soul**

**The Wish**

Ygraine would have run towards the eastern wing of the Citadel had propriety allowed such a thing. As it was, she had to settle for a brisk walk and the hope that the hood of her cloak obscured the expression on her face. The talisman she had been given dangled from her fingers, swinging uselessly by her side as she made her way through corridor after corridor towards the quarters of the Lord Gorlois and his lady, Vivienne.

The Queen knocked on the door much more loudly than she had intended, almost desperate to disappear inside and pour her feelings out to one of the few people in Camelot who knew the full extent of her misery. The door opened and Ygraine flew in, heedless of manners and the early hour and polite behaviour.

Vivienne gaped at her for a moment in shock. "Ygraine, what –"

"It didn't work." Ygraine's voice cracked on the last word and she thrust the useless pouch into Vivienne's hands. "I have my courses again. I have no child."

Vivienne blinked, taken aback. "No, it can't be..."

"It is," Ygraine choked out, letting the tears she had been holding back fall freely at last.

"This is the strongest charm I know," Vivienne said helplessly, staring down at the small bag that had taken so much effort to create. She had poured heart and soul and magic into its making. "This should have worked."

Ygraine sank down onto the nearest chair and hung her head in dejection, letting her golden hair fall around her face like a curtain as she wept. "I don't understand," she whispered, her voice ragged with shattered hopes. "Every month we try something different, something stronger. Your arts have never failed anyone else."

"I'm so sorry," Vivienne said gently, kneeling before her friend to clasp her hands. "Ygraine, I wish I knew why you can't conceive."

"Alice said much the same last month," Ygraine hiccupped, not meeting Vivienne's eyes. Her shoulders sagged. "Perhaps I should just accept it. I shall never have a child. I can never give my husband a son."

Vivienne's grip on the Queen's hands tightened. "Uther's love isn't conditional upon giving him an heir, Ygraine," Vivienne said firmly, speaking a truth that was known throughout Camelot. "He'd give you the moon if you asked."

"And what do I give in return?" Ygraine demanded, overwrought by years of failure. "I'm Uther's Queen. One duty above all others must be fulfilled and I'm incapable of performing it."

"If your reasons for wanting a child were truly so mercenary, it might make sense that nature is resisting," Vivienne replied sharply, her dark eyes flashing. "Don't pretend with me, old friend. I know you too well. You don't give a fig for an heir any more than I do."

Ygraine's anger drained away as suddenly as it had appeared and she leaned forward, letting her head fall onto Vivienne's shoulder. Vivienne embraced her tightly, offering up what comfort she could to the bitterly disappointed Queen.

To Ygraine it seemed such a simple desire: to be a mother. To have a child and cherish him or her as the precious gift they were. To give Uther a son with her eyes or a daughter with his smile. To have a family. She dreamed of such things, the images so vivid she could reach out and touch them, and yet they eluded her in the waking world. "What am I going to do? This shouldn't be so hard."

"We'll put our heads together with Alice and Gaius as we always do," Vivienne promised, though she suspected that the two healers had also exhausted every option they could think of. "Don't give up hope. It _will_ happen."

It wasn't right. So many women conceived children they didn't want and Ygraine, who yearned to hold an infant in her arms and watch the product of her love for Uther flourish, struggled as the years rolled by and the bleeding came upon her month after month.

Uther was certainly doing his part. His unwavering passion for his wife was legend among his subjects. He had conquered Camelot to give her a home, defended his kingdom to keep her safe from harm. Vivienne had not exaggerated when she said he would do anything for her.

"Have you told Uther?" Vivienne asked softly and Ygraine shook her head.

"He's in council with the nobles," Ygraine replied, brushing moisture away from her eyes as she sat up again. She swallowed hard, trying to compose herself.

"Mama?" The door creaked open and a golden head peeked into the room.

"Morgause." Vivienne rose to her feet, torn between maternal irritation that her daughter was obviously not with her tutor as she should be and relief that the girl had made an appearance. Nothing cheered the Queen up like children, strange as it sounded. "Come in, darling."

Morgause lit up at the invitation and pattered excitedly into her mother's arms, then curtsied to the Queen with the awkwardness of a five-year-old who was still learning. Vivienne stifled a smile, sharing a knowing look with Ygraine.

"That's a very pretty curtsey, Morgause," Ygraine praised her, smiling at the girl through her tears. The mere sight of Morgause warmed her. She had always loved children, be they infants in swaddling clothes or imps making messes their elders had to clean up.

"You look sad," Morgause observed with innocent honesty, frowning as she peered at the Queen, whose heart broke a little more at the expression of worry that creased Morgause's small face. "Are you sad, Auntie 'Graine?"

Ygraine sniffed and quickly wiped away the last traces of her weeping as Vivienne shook her head in resignation at the manner in which her daughter addressed the Queen of Camelot. No matter how many times Vivienne had protested in the past that it wasn't proper, Ygraine had encouraged the girl to call her 'Aunt' in private.

"May I have a hug to cheer me up?" Ygraine asked, summoning up a coaxing smile. Morgause giggled, wriggling away from Vivienne and climbing into the Queen's lap with the ease of long practice. "Oh, you're getting so big," Ygraine marvelled, giving the child an affectionate squeeze. "What have they been feeding you?"

"Mama says I have to eat my veget-a-ma-bles," Morgause chirped and Ygraine stroked the girl's starlit hair, laughing softly. Morgause's dark eyes may have been a gift from Vivienne but her fair colouring was all Gorlois.

"I think you mean 'vegetables', sweeting," Vivienne corrected with an indulgent grin, reaching out to tickle Morgause's belly. "She's been a very good girl. She even ate the sprouts Agnes gave her last night."

"Papa said I had to," Morgause complained, wrinkling her nose, and Ygraine kissed her temple.

"Well, your father is right," Ygraine said kindly. "You need to eat all the greens on your plate if you're going to grow up to be big one day."

"But Mama says I won't be big for years." Morgause scrunched her face up in puzzlement. "Can magic make me big?"

"No, sweeting," Vivienne replied quickly, tapping her daughter's nose gently. "Magic doesn't work like that. It would only be an illusion."

"What a 'loo-shun'?" Morgause asked curiously.

"An illusion. Making something look different even though it stays the same," Vivienne answered her. "Like making your hair look brown or your skin look dark. See? _Angnere líhtung_." Vivienne's eyes glinted gold and a moment later they were the same bold cobalt blue as those of her sister, Nimueh.

"Could I do that when I'm big?" Morgause clapped and bounced on Ygraine's lap, her whole face alight with enthusiasm.

"_Geændung_." Vivienne's eyes returned to their natural deep brown and she smiled and pressed a kiss to Morgause's forehead. "Why would you want to be anything but what you are, my little one?"

Ygraine looked from daughter to mother and back again. "Can you do magic, Morgause?"

Morgause glanced at Vivienne, who nodded encouragingly. "I made it rain inside," Morgause said in a hushed tone, putting one index finger against her lips and the other against Ygraine's. "My dress and bed got wet. Agnes was mad."

Ygraine's eyebrows rose. "That is impressive, Morgause, but I can see why Agnes was upset when she had to clean up after it."

"Gorlois and I have been discussing how best to train her," Vivienne explained, sweeping her long brown hair back over her shoulders. "She's too young to go to the Isle."

"But Aunt Nimueh's at the Isle," Morgause pointed out logically.

"Your Aunt Nimueh is not the maternal type," Vivienne said dryly and Ygraine hid a smile. The Queen had only met the High Priestess of the Isle of the Blessed on two occasions and while she had seemed pleasant enough, Nimueh was far more aloof than her sister. She'd not paid much attention to Morgause except to comment on how she'd grown and pat her on the head.

The priests and priestesses of the Old Religion all had an air of mystery. Even Vivienne, who had left the Isle for love of Gorlois, was unfathomable at times.

Ygraine's expression became thoughtful. "Vivienne... do you think Nimueh might know a way to help me?"

"Help with what?" Morgause piped up, brown eyes wide, and Vivienne stood, lifting her daughter off Ygraine's lap. The longing in Ygraine's face as Morgause was taken from her grasp tugged at Vivienne's heart and she guided Morgause towards the door.

"I think it's time for you to return to your lessons, young lady," Vivienne told her in a tone that made it clear arguing was not an option. "Now go back down the hall and wake Sir Rupert. I assume he's napping again?"

Morgause nodded, realizing that playtime was over and her mother would not be gainsaid.

Vivienne opened the door. "I'll be speaking with him later. Run along now." Morgause darted out of the room and Vivienne and Ygraine were alone once more. Ygraine rose to her feet and smoothed her skirts, the sunlight streaming in from the windows surrounding her with a glowing halo.

"You haven't answered my question," Ygraine reminded her friend, pursing her lips. "Do you think Nimueh could help me? You've said in the past that her skills are superior to those of anyone else in the kingdom."

Vivienne met Ygraine's eyes and breathed deeply as she considered her answer. "Nimueh continued her training long after I'd forsaken mine. As a High Priestess, it's possible that she may be able to assist where I can't... but please let me consult with Alice and Gaius first."

Ygraine hesitated but nodded. "Very well. Thank you for trying so hard to help for so long. You are truly a good friend."

"As a friend, I think you should speak with Uther about what has happened," Vivienne suggested gently. She could not imagine keeping such a thing from Gorlois if she were in Ygraine's position.

The Queen stiffened. "I'll inform him that we haven't conceived," Ygraine said sadly.

"That's not what I meant," Vivienne replied carefully, watching Ygraine's face. "Have you told him how you feel about being without a child after trying for so long? I think he'd wish to know. He loves you so fiercely."

Ygraine's blue eyes glistened afresh with unshed tears and she held Vivienne's gaze for a long moment. "I'll consider it."

"That's all I ask." Vivienne kissed her friend's cheek and hugged her swiftly. "Don't despair. We'll find a way."

Ygraine lifted her hood over her golden hair, clasped Vivienne's hand and was gone.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The short journey to his chambers from the banquet hall was strangely tense and Uther didn't like it one bit. Ygraine walked beside him, her arm looped through his, silent and seemingly lost in thought. She had been distracted for most of the evening and had spent more time moving her food around on her plate than eating it. He detested seeing her so listless.

"Ygraine, are you well?" Uther asked, pausing and forcing her to do the same. She looked up at him, startled, and Uther quickly realised that she hadn't heard a word he'd said. "Ygraine, are you all right? You're not yourself today and you hardly touched your dinner."

"Of course I'm..." Ygraine trailed off, as if the reflexive assurance and the false smile meant to accompany it had simply died halfway off her tongue, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. "No."

Uther's frown deepened in concern and he moved closer, as if he could shield her from her troubles with his proximity. "What's wrong, my love?"

"Not here," Ygraine said quietly, shaking her head. "In our chambers, where we are alone."

Uther wasted no more time and whisked his wife into their apartments, closing the door and locking it behind him. He turned to find Ygraine sitting on the foot of their bed, staring down at the floor, her hands clasped in her lap.

"Ygraine." Uther knelt on one knee before her and reached out to touch her chin, prompting her to look at him. "Tell me what grieves you."

She gave him a watery smile, one that didn't reach her eyes, and in a flash of insight Uther knew what she was going to say. "We have no child again this month."

Expectation did not lessen the blow. A whole host of emotions swept over him, by now as familiar to him as the weight of his sword at his hip, and Uther dragged in a deep breath to steady himself. "I see," he murmured, looking away for barely a moment and that was all it took for Ygraine to dissolve into sobs, the facade of acceptance that she had been wearing for so long finally cracking under the pressure.

Uther stopped breathing, what little equilibrium he had left abandoning him in a heartbeat. In all the years he had known her, never once had he seen Ygraine cry. His wife, his white rose, always so stalwart and full of grace, was falling apart before his eyes.

"Ygraine, Ygraine..." Uther chanted her name softly like a prayer as he gathered her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, saltwater damping his shirt as he held her, pressing kisses to her sun-gold hair and rocking her as gently as he knew how.

"I'm so sorry..." The words were strangled by her tears, muffled against his clothes, and they made him ache with regret. How had he not known how badly this was hurting her?

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Uther soothed her, his lips brushing her silken hair. In truth, as much as it tore at his pride to admit it, there was a possibility that the fault lay with him. Ygraine had been virgin when she had come to his bed, pure as the day she was born. Uther had not been so chaste and yet, to his knowledge, none of his dalliances before Ygraine had resulted in offspring.

"I've tried everything," Ygraine confessed disconsolately, fisting his shirt with her fingers. "Alice and Gaius, Vivienne, they've all tried to help and nothing works. Nothing at all."

The lump in Uther's throat only seemed to get bigger at that revelation. He had known that Alice and Gaius had been doing their best to enable Ygraine to conceive but it was the first he had heard of Vivienne's involvement. Stronger magic than Gaius and Alice were capable of had been called upon if that was the case. The wife of Gorlois was no hedge-witch.

Uther closed his eyes and breathed her in, choosing his words carefully. She felt fragile, almost breakable, and he would not be the one to let her smash against the cold stone. "Ygraine, there is always a way. I will find it, I promise you."

It seemed to take an eternity but Ygraine finally cried herself out and simply clung to him, her eyes red and her face pink from exertion. She sniffled and her breathing became even once more as she calmed. "I asked Vivienne if Nimueh could help."

Uther stroked her hair and shifted to meet her eyes. "What did she say?"

"She wasn't sure. She wants to speak with Alice and Gaius first," Ygraine replied, sounding hoarse. "Nimueh is the High Priestess of the Isle. Surely she could at least tell us if we are destined to have a child or not? Vivienne is not a seer."

"No, she isn't," Uther agreed, already thinking it over. "Nor is Nimueh someone to trifle with." He made up his mind in that instant. "I'll discuss it with Vivienne and the healers. Leave it to me."

"But –"

"Hush, Ygraine," Uther said, stopping her mouth with a kiss. "You've fought hard. Now it's my turn."

Ygraine smiled. It was weak but genuine and the knot in Uther's gut began to unravel. "I suppose you'll consult with Gaius first." There was a teasing note in her voice that made his heart swell.

"Of course. Why shouldn't I?" Uther asked, sounding genuinely bewildered.

"You always go to him first," Ygraine observed, sounding more curious than challenging.

"Gaius has served me faithfully for many years. I trust his judgement," Uther told her, casting his mind back to the many wars that had been fought and the many soldiers who had lived to serve another day thanks to Gaius' skills. The man had been an invaluable asset to Uther's army in the days when they had roamed from battle to battle.

Ygraine lifted a hand and traced the line of his jaw, her touch gossamer light. "I love you, husband."

Uther smiled at her, the words sinking into his bones to warm him from within. His forehead touched hers, his eyes closing in relief. "I love you, wife."


	2. The Request

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **To 'Merlin-Fan-Forever', thanks so much for your review!

**The Dark Night of the Soul**

**The Request**

"Sire, we have explored every viable option," Gaius explained patiently as he, Alice and Vivienne sat at the table with their sovereign. Uther sat with deceptive stillness and regarded the trio darkly.

"There must be something left to try," Uther insisted, speaking for the first time since he had bidden them to tell him of the measures they'd employed in their efforts to aid his wife.

"To be honest, Sire... we've no idea where to go from here," Alice admitted, glancing at her betrothed, who sat by her side, with an air of defeat. Gaius took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Gaius and I have been poring over all of our books – magic, herbalism and crystals, everything – for days with no luck. Geoffrey has ransacked his own library to help us with our research and we still have no answers."

"Then we need to find some methods you haven't used before," Uther concluded, looking at each of them in turn until his gaze came to rest on Vivienne. "Methods that are not at your disposal."

"I was trained at the Isle of the Blessed," Vivienne reminded him firmly, drawing herself up in her seat, "and Gaius and Alice are the finest healers in Albion. If you know of an alternative we don't, please enlighten us."

"Gaius, I want you to go to the Isle to speak with Nimueh." Uther's green eyes were hard with determination as he looked at his longest-serving advisor and court physician.

For a moment, Gaius was struck speechless. "Sire... I hope you aren't considering what I think you're considering. No good can come of using pure sorcery in this."

"If there is even a slim chance that Ygraine can bear a child, then we must take it," Uther said sternly.

"There's always a price to pay when using such powerful magicks," Gaius persisted, leaning forward to look the King squarely in the eyes. "You have no idea what might be asked of you in return."

"I am the king of Camelot," Uther replied sternly. "Whatever is asked, I can afford to give."

"It's not a question of money or goods," Vivienne said hurriedly, her composure rattled by the mere suggestion that such an exchange would be easy. "Magic makes its own demands."

"Magic is dictated by those trained to use it," Uther said sharply, prompting Alice and Gaius to look at each other in alarm. "And it will serve us now. It will give Ygraine and I a son."

"We channel magic. We don't dictate it," Vivienne pressed on, her dark eyes steely. "It's not one of your subjects to be ordered about and my sister certainly is not. Send anyone to the Isle with that kind of attitude and they'll be returned to you with a flat refusal."

Silence descended upon the table as Uther and Vivienne stared each other down.

"I fear Vivienne is right, Sire," Gaius spoke up gravely, bringing the king's attention back to him. "A demand will not be tolerated by Nimueh or the priests. They do not answer to any one king. We must be more diplomatic in our approach."

"Very well," Uther conceded at last. "Gaius, you will go to the Isle of the Blessed and _request_ –" At this, he gave Vivienne a significant look "– Nimueh's assistance in this."

Vivienne relaxed slightly, momentarily mollified and clearly unsurprised that she was not to be given the task. "You must keep your wits about you when you meet with Nimueh, Gaius," she advised.

"I have no doubt," Gaius replied, inclining his head in acknowledgement of the warning.

"I shall travel with you," Alice offered, curling her fingers around his. "It's a long road south and I'd hate to see you get lost." Her eyes danced as she teased him, the old jest having lost none of its spark over the years.

"That was once and it was dark," Gaius defended himself as he always did and Alice laughed, patting him on the arm with the air of one who knew better.

"If you say so, my love." Alice never tired of reliving that first meeting, so soon after Uther had conquered Camelot and she had woken to the sound of an old man stumbling around in the blackness, completely turned around. Gaius' attempts to navigate his new home had failed but had yielded something infinitely more precious.

Even Uther smiled. "Yes, I imagine the two of you can use the time on the road to continue making plans for your wedding. Have you managed to set a date yet?"

"Sadly, Sire, a date eludes us," Gaius sighed ruefully. "Every time we attempt to decide on one, a crisis arises that forces us to delay it."

"It'll happen when the time's right," Vivienne said with quiet confidence, regarding the pair warmly. "That's the way of destiny."

"I most certainly hope so," Gaius said fervently and turned his eyes on Uther. "Your Majesty, we shall depart in the morning if that pleases you."

"It does," Uther nodded, indicating the meeting was over. "A word, Vivienne."

The lady in question paused in rising from her chair and resettled herself as Gaius and Alice departed. She watched Uther's face, calm as a summer sky, until the door closed, leaving them alone.

"You disapprove," Uther observed curtly.

"I do." Vivienne didn't even try to deny it. "The end doesn't always justify the means."

"The end in question is a child for Ygraine and an heir for Camelot," Uther growled. "For years my wife has grieved that she could not have a family as others do – as you yourself do. You would deny her the joy of being a mother?"

Vivienne's expression tightened at the accusation in his tone. "No. My fear is that the cost may be more than Ygraine can bear. If it were in my power, I would have a son or daughter in her arms tomorrow."

Uther's gaze didn't waver. "If it is in my power, nine months will be soon enough."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

"We should get out of the city more often," Alice declared the next morning, lifting her face to the sun. "There's something so refreshing about being away from the walls and doors and crowds of people."

"I don't deny that it's a pleasant change," Gaius agreed, "but riding isn't really my forte. I'm going to be stiff for days after this excursion, I fear." He shook his head at the muscles that were already aching from hours on horseback.

Alice grinned. "Ah, but that's why you're so fortunate to have me along, my dear," she replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Am I or am I not the finest healer in Camelot besides your noble self?"

Gaius chuckled. "Oh, you were the finest healer in Camelot long before I appeared and I do indeed consider myself lucky to have you along, else I won't be any good to anyone on the journey back."

Alice laughed. "We'd be carrying you to the boat."

Gaius' lips twitched upwards. "I suspect Uther wouldn't appreciate it if I were to approach Nimueh in such a fashion."

"She'd probably mistake you for a statue," Alice chortled. The spectre of the king's command seemed to fade away in the brightness of the day. The sky was clear and blue, the breeze cool and gentle, and Alice soaked it all in.

Gaius simply watched her, enjoying her good mood and teasing. Unlike him, Alice rode fairly regularly and was completely at ease in the saddle. She'd pulled her light brown hair, silvering slightly in places, back into a braid that gave him an unfettered view of her face. Gaius didn't often get to see her so relaxed. So frequently her brow was creased with worry or concentration as she worked on her patients. He supposed he looked much the same most of the time.

"What are you looking at, old man?" Alice asked, her tone full of affection, and Gaius reached out a hand which she quickly grasped.

"You," Gaius replied fondly and Alice squeezed his hand. "While we have the time, I should ask: have you thought any more about the Lughnasadh festival?"

"For the wedding?" she asked and Gaius nodded. Alice sighed. "With all this business about the Queen, I haven't had much chance, I'm afraid. I've spent more time reading about fertility spells than giving our plans any thought."

"I have to make an honest woman of you sooner or later," Gaius told her wryly and Alice smiled.

"I was made an honest woman once before and sometimes I think it's more fun being dishonest," she joked. "Life would be so much easier if people weren't always running to us with bleeding body parts or boils in unfortunate places."

"Easier, yes, but not half so challenging," Gaius conceded, lifting her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles, "and it's a challenge we never fail to meet, my dear."

"A challenge we wouldn't give up even if we could," Alice stated and Gaius caught her eyes, the two of them in accord without a word more being spoken.

The hours passed by and the pair stopped only to periodically rest and water the horses. Gaius regretted each and every stop that forced him to dismount and Alice eased him each and every time, soothing his abused muscles with practiced hands and numbing remedies. It would take them overnight to reach the Isle of the Blessed. They camped in the welcoming shade of an oak, their small fire keeping the shadows at bay until they slept at last.

If Gaius' choice of language the next morning was uncharacteristically colourful, Alice didn't comment on it.

They reached the shore as the sun climbed high into a sky streaked with clouds that seemed to mirror the mist swirling across the water. There was a small dock and one boat, a simple affair with no oars to speak of, moored beside it. Gaius grimaced as he dismounted and looped his reins over the branch of a nearby tree.

"These old bones aren't thanking me for stopping," Gaius groaned and Alice pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

"We're so very close," she reminded him. "If you sit down now, your joints will lock up completely and you'll never get up again."

"I never thought I'd reach an age where I'd have to worry about my joints," Gaius confessed ruefully as she helped him straighten his back up so that he could walk to the boat.

"Age creeps up on us all, love," Alice said wisely. "Now come along. There's room for both us."

The boat began moving once the right word was whispered and all sense of time seemed to stop for Gaius. It could have been seconds or minutes. It could have been hours but he had no way to tell. The mists parted and the Isle loomed before them, the ancient walls of silvery stone gleaming when the light peeked through from above.

"Welcome, travellers."

The voice had no discernable source at first but as the boat came to a stop, a young man in the robes of a novice made his way down the steps to greet them. Gaius and Alice bowed and he did so in return, his expression kind.

"My name is Aglain," he told them. "Please come with me. The High Priestess is expecting you."

"She is?" Alice asked, surprised.

"She has the gift for foresight," Aglain explained, leading them through the grounds. "She knows of your coming but not the reason. This way."

Aglain knocked on a door at the topmost room of one of the towers and stepped aside to let them enter the room. He closed the door behind them, leaving them alone with the lone occupant of the room and a table set with three places, plates piled high with food.

The woman who turned away from the window to face them was beautiful – stunningly so, with eyes of so bright and vivid a blue that they almost seemed to burn. Her lips curved into a smile.

"Welcome to the Isle of the Blessed," she said warmly as she approached. "I am Nimueh, High Priestess of the Isle."

"My lady." Gaius bowed low, wincing as his long-abused back complained. He was astonished when she grasped his shoulders and stopped him, urging him to stand straight.

"None of that," Nimueh told him kindly. "I would be in no better shape if I had ridden so far in so short a time."

"Thank you, my lady," Gaius said with genuine relief. "My name is Gaius; I'm the court physician of Camelot. This is Alice, the finest healer in the kingdom."

"You've certainly come a long way to seek our aid," Nimueh commented, looking rather curious about the whole affair. "Please, sit and share a meal with me. Your request can wait a little longer while you have something to eat and drink."

Gaius had never been so grateful to sit on a padded chair in his life. Nimueh gave him an understanding smile as he settled into it that made him wonder just how much she really knew about their journey and its purpose. The meal passed pleasantly enough, marked only by idle chit-chat that could have been found in any dining room throughout Albion.

"Now, I think it's time we discussed your reason for coming here," Nimueh spoke up once the dishes had been cleared away. "I doubt you were in search of a better remedy for saddle-sores."

"Gods help me on the journey home if it's gotten that far," Gaius muttered and both Alice and Nimueh grinned at him. "We have come on behalf of King Uther Pendragon and his Queen."

"I'm intrigued," Nimueh said thoughtfully and Gaius caught a glimpse of the shrewd mind behind the lovely face. "I believe Uther is not usually the type to ask for help."

"The King and Queen have no child," Alice said, picking up the thread of conversation. "They have been married five years and have made Camelot their home for four of those years. In that time, Ygraine has not been able to conceive."

Nimueh's expression smoothed into one of cautious interest. "At all?"

"No, my lady, there have been no miscarriages," Alice confirmed. "Nothing whatsoever."

"I assume that I am a last resort?" Nimueh prompted them.

"We have been assisting the Queen for three years," Gaius told her. "Over the last twelve months, we have also employed the skills of your sister, the Lady Vivienne, in our attempts. Though both Alice and I have magic, the training Vivienne received here at the Isle is far superior. The result has remained the same."

At that, Nimueh nodded a little, turning the problem over in her mind. She glanced at Gaius, her lips lifting in a half-smile. "I take it my sister objects to your presence here? If she supported it, surely Uther would have been inclined to send Vivienne as well considering her history here."

"Vivienne has expressed concerns that the level of risk required to accomplish this may outweigh the gain," Gaius admitted, looking at Alice. "To be clear, we share the same worry. The King is less concerned. I don't believe he realizes that the cost may not be material in nature."

Nimueh regarded them pensively. "If Vivienne has used all the ways known to her without success, this will truly be a test. My sister's powers, though wasted at your court, are considerable."

"She sends her regards," Gaius said dryly and Nimueh laughed outright.

"It's an old argument between my sister and I, Gaius," Nimueh said merrily. "If I could go back to the day Gorlois came to the Isle, I'd turn him into a toad on the spot."

"Should I be prepared to swim back to shore, my lady?" Gaius asked and Nimueh smiled.

"I have no more sisters to steal away. I think you're safe. Besides, I'm sure your Alice would object."

"Only if you didn't turn me into a toad as well," Alice chimed in, beaming at her betrothed.

"I'll keep that in mind," Nimueh promised, lifting her wine glass in a silent toast. She took a sip and stared into space for a long moment. "Uther's request is going to require a great deal of consideration. To create life where none can take root is no easy feat."

"The Queen is quite distressed," Alice confided. "She wants a child so badly."

"For itself or for Uther?" Nimueh asked smartly.

"Both," Alice replied confidently, "though more for the former than the latter. Being a mother is so very important to her. Uther particularly wants a son."

Nimueh's gaze shifted from Alice to Gaius and she nodded slowly, satisfied. "I'll see what can be done but I make no promises."

"That's all we ask, my lady," Gaius replied gratefully.

"You shall stay as our guests in the meantime," Nimueh declared as she rose to her feet. "Please make yourselves at home. Rest and feel free to have a look at our library. We have quite a formidable collection."

Two days later, Nimueh announced that she would return to Camelot with Gaius and Alice but would not speak of the magic she brought with her.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The presence of the High Priestess of the Isle and her Blood Guard caused quite a stir in the city of Camelot. The faithful came out of their houses and businesses in droves, calling and bowing and reaching out to Nimueh. She accepted each and every gesture with grace, touching the hands of those who offered and smiling at the rest, speaking blessings of the Old Religion as she passed.

By the time Nimueh reached the Citadel, surrounded by her warrior priests and with Gaius and Alice flanking her on either side, the entire court had turned out to see what all the commotion was.

Uther and Ygraine descended the steps as Nimueh dismounted and true to her word she looked a little uncomfortable for a moment before she composed herself. She flashed Gaius a sympathetic look and turned to face her audience, her cloak swirling about her feet.

"You are most welcome in Camelot, Lady Nimueh," Uther said graciously and though he did not bow, he inclined his head in a respectful manner that could not be faulted. Ygraine had no such reservations. She curtsied deeply and smiled at her guest.

"Your presence is a gift, lady," Ygraine declared, clearly thrilled to find her wish being acted upon. "We're most honoured that you've chosen to visit us."

"The honour is mine, Your Majesties," Nimueh replied politely, catching Ygraine's gaze with her own. "If I may trespass on your hospitality, I believe I can be of service to you."

Ygraine's smile was blinding and for a moment it was all Uther could see. Her grip on his arm tightened convulsively, her hope a palpable force he could almost touch.

"Come to terrorize the nobility, sister?"

"Greetings, brother," Nimueh said impishly as Gorlois approached with Vivienne on his arm. The knight had hardly changed in all the years she'd known him. He was as straight-backed and golden as ever. "Still treating my sister with the respect she deserves, I hope."

"Always, lady," Gorlois replied with a courtly bow and an amused look as he offered her his other arm, which Nimueh accepted with only a show of reluctance. "I have no wish to find myself frogged, after all."

"Nonsense, my sister would never bring an amphibian into the family," Vivienne deadpanned as they ascended the stairs with the King and Queen. "She'd have to turn you into a dog at the very least."

"Well, he already pants after you, Vivienne. It would only be fitting," Nimueh taunted archly and Uther coughed, clearing his throat as Ygraine solicitously patted him on the back.

"I'm not going to have a moment's peace until you leave, am I?" Gorlois asked, meeting his sister-in-law's brilliant eyes. In response, Nimueh slipped away from him and looped her arm through Vivienne's instead, smiling playfully.

"What kind of a sister would I be if I didn't torment my brother?" she asked and whisked Vivienne along with her, the two women laughing in a conspiratorial manner that portended trouble. Uther raised his eyebrows at his old friend but remained silent as he followed the women, Ygraine glowing with happiness all the while.

"Indeed," Gorlois sighed, resigning himself to several days of his wife reverting to a squabbling, giggling sibling. It was always the same when Vivienne and Nimueh were within a league of each other but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Seeing Nimueh like that reminded Gorlois that she was human too.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

It was after sunset when Nimueh requested the Queen's presence in her chambers. The summons was unusual but there was nothing improper about it so Cara, Ygraine's maid, presented it to her mistress and offered to deliver the Queen's reply. Cara was startled when the Queen picked up the note and departed instantly.

Nimueh was standing at the window, watching the stars as they began to shine, when the expected knock came. The priestess has dismissed her assigned maid and so answered the door herself, swinging it wide to let Ygraine come inside. The Queen was not quite what the priestess had expected. Pretty but not overwhelming, elegant but surprisingly vulnerable. A complex woman.

The Queen turned anxious blue eyes on Nimueh the moment the door closed behind her. "You would not come so far to tell me you could not help."

"No, I would not," Nimueh assured her and Ygraine closed her eyes, letting out the breath she'd been holding. "Please, sit."

"What is it?" Ygraine asked breathlessly, tense with anticipation. "A spell? A potion? A charm? Please, I will do anything."

"That is a dangerous thing to say," Nimueh cautioned her, her face void of all humour. "You may change your mind after you hear me out."

"Then tell me," Ygraine urged her. "I've waited so long."

Nimueh searched Ygraine's face long and hard. "There's a price for my help, Ygraine," Nimueh warned her, blue eyes burning with fervour. "You cannot breathe a word to Uther of what I'm about to tell you. If the magic I speak of were to fall into the hands of an ambitious king, the consequences would be dire."

Ygraine paled. "You want me to lie to my husband."

"Call it what you like," Nimueh said boldly, "but without your word I go no further."

Ygraine's teeth worried her lower lip, the weight of her request growing suddenly heavy. "It's not black magic?"

"No." Nimueh shook her head. "It's old magic, older than anything I've ever seen, and dangerous in the wrong hands. A king who knew of its power would try to take it, perhaps to use it or he may naively think he can protect it, but it is safest in the hands of those who guard the Isle. Do you understand?"

Ygraine met Nimueh's eyes and the priestess suddenly felt that she, in turn, was being measured. It was a strange sensation, to look into this woman's eyes and see herself reflected there. It was a look of knowing, one that seemed to cut straight to Nimueh's core, as if the Queen were reading her as one would a book.

Ygraine had a power all her own but there was nothing magical about it. In that moment, Nimueh understood exactly why Uther treasured this woman above all else.

"All right," Ygraine said at last. "I swear on the life of child we are trying to create."

"Thank you." Nimueh smiled gently, knowing no other oath could ever come close in Ygraine's eyes. "The magic I speak of, it was lost to us when the Romans came to Albion. We've only recently unearthed it again. The mystics and I have been studying it."

Ygraine shifted closer in her eagerness. "What is it?"

"It's called the Cup of Life. I admit that we don't fully understand it yet but we do know that it has the ability to grant life where nothing else can. If you drink water from the Cup, it can restore – or hopefully in this case – grant life." Nimueh paused, knowing she must now be very clear. "However, there will be a price... and I cannot say for sure what it will be."

"What do you mean?" Ygraine's face fell, her brow furrowing in concern.

"The texts we have on the Cup are incomplete, damaged. In order to give, something must be taken in return. The universe always demands a price for such things."

"What kind of price?" Ygraine prompted her.

"It could be as simple as a kiss or as terrible as blood."

"Blood," Ygraine echoed, eyes widening in apprehension. "Whose?"

"That I cannot foresee," Nimueh said honestly. "Ygraine, if there were any other way, I would not suggest this. Gaius and Alice were very thorough in their retelling of everything you've attempted. I tell you truly, if this does not work, there is nothing else."

Silence descended upon them as Ygraine absorbed that knowledge. Her hands shook as the minutes ticked by. Nimueh sat in silence as the Queen got up and paced the room.

"If it doesn't work... will the price still be required?" Ygraine asked at last.

"No," Nimueh replied flatly. "If the universe doesn't give, it won't take from you."

Ygraine looked at the priestess and nodded slowly, squaring her shoulders. "I must speak with Uther. It is his decision as well."

"Remember your oath," Nimueh reminded her softly. "You cannot tell him of the Cup."

"I will remember," Ygraine promised, "but he has a right to know the rest."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The summons was expected and Nimueh was prepared. The Cup sat before her, a pitcher of water at its side, and she draped a silken sheet over it before she answered the door. The knight who stood on her threshold, Sir Bors, bowed as he requested her presence on behalf of the King and Queen.

The Blood Guards on either side of her door didn't move an inch, all too aware of the treasure within her chambers that she had ordered them to watch over with their lives.

Uther was seated at the head of the council table when Nimueh arrived. The King looked grave, his gloved hand touching his lips as he pondered what his wife had told him.

"Ygraine tells me that the price for the magic you offer will be... unpredictable," Uther said grimly, his green eyes searching Nimueh's expression. "That it may be paid in blood when the time comes."

"It is a possibility, Majesty," Nimueh replied candidly. "I don't bring this to you lightly. The universe gives and takes in equal measure and we are as yet unable to foresee what lies ahead if this is successful."

"Is it possible to decide in advance whose blood will be paid if it is demanded?" Uther asked.

"As I advised the Queen, this is old magic but only recently rediscovered," Nimueh explained. "Much is still unknown. I do not have that power."

"You ask us to walk in blindly," Uther growled.

"On the contrary," Nimueh replied calmly. "I am lighting the way as much as I can."

"And there is nothing else," Uther stated, lost in thought once again. "You're absolutely sure?"

"I do not play with the forces of life and death for my own amusement, Uther, son of Constantine," Nimueh said flatly, boldly using the king's name rather than his title. "You asked for my help and I have come. You say you want a son and I am offering him to you. It's not for me to decide if the price is too high."

The King was silent, watching the High Priestess with guarded eyes.

"If a price is to be paid, _I_ will pay it," Uther declared at last. "We accept."

Nimueh closed her eyes, concentrated for a moment and produced an ornate silver phial. The King's eyes locked onto it in a heartbeat and when she held it out to him, he took it from her with a reverence she had only seen him pay to his wife.

"Give this to Ygraine," Nimueh instructed him. "Have her drink the water within. Every last drop."

Uther met her eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

Nimueh's lips quirked upwards. "Don't thank me just yet. There is still a certain level of... participation... required from you and your wife if this is to work."

For the rest of her life, Nimueh would remember that day as the only time she would ever see Uther Pendragon blush.


	3. The Miracle

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **First, thanks to those who reviewed! Second, the concept of Loth Lwyddoc and Anna Dubois does not belong to me – it's the brainchild of Sophie-Lou and is featured in her story 'The Roots of a Perfect Knight'. She has graciously allowed me to use it in this fic. Links to her profile and her story can be found on my Favourites.

**The Dark Night of the Soul**

**The Miracle**

'_The Black Knight returns_' the people whispered. Some looked away in fear while others peered at him out of curiosity. He rode through the lower town on a horse as dark as the cloak he wore, his chain mail glinting in the muted light of morning. The shield on his arm, emblazoned with a white eagle, had become a warning to all who stood against him in battle.

It was superstitious nonsense, of course. There was nothing supernatural about his status as the Black Knight of Camelot but Sir Tristan Dubois would take whatever advantage he could get in combat.

Without a doubt, word of his arrival would reach the Citadel long before he did. Nothing spread faster than rumours in Camelot and after spending the last few months visiting with Loth and Anna, his return would be fodder for the gossips. Such speculation didn't always stay within the bounds of reason. He'd heard ridiculous tales of facing down giants and racing through the night with the Wild Hunt at his heels.

Tristan almost wished that one or two of them were true. It would certainly make for a good campfire story.

He was hailed by his fellow knights as he neared the Citadel, shouts of welcome following him all the way to the courtyard. Among a sea of red and gold, he stood apart, his loyalty bought with his sister's marriage rather than any regard for Uther Pendragon.

No sooner had his feet touched the ground than Ygraine flew down the stairs and Tristan swept his sister up in his arms as he always did, spinning her around as he had when they were children and would continue to do until they were both in their dotage. He paid no attention to Uther's scowl, hearing only Ygraine's laughter as he hugged her hard and finally set her down.

"It's so good to have you back," Ygraine beamed at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I've missed you, Tristan."

Tristan cupped her dear face in his hands and smiled. "I've missed you too, sister."

"I have so much to tell you," Ygraine said, all but vibrating with excitement.

"Ygraine, please let Tristan refresh himself after his journey," Uther interjected, coming to his wife's side. Green eyes met blue and the two men clasped arms, wrist to elbow. "The Black Knight returns."

"Indeed he does," Tristan replied in the same vein, the hint of challenge that always sparked between them alive and well after lying dormant in Tristan's absence. "You look well, Uther. I see that sedentary life has been good to you."

"And I see nothing has changed," Ygraine commented with an exasperated shake of her golden head. "Play nicely, children. You know the rules."

Uther's smile was just short of predatory but he acquiesced, stepping back to slide an arm around Ygraine's waist. "Old habits, my love."

Ygraine gave him a quelling look and looped her free arm through Tristan's, marching both her husband and her brother into the Citadel. "Tristan, you must give me all the news of Caerleon. How fares our sister?"

"Anna is very well," Tristan reassured her, patting her hand. "She sends her love and letters full of womanly details I'll never remember. Her boy grows strong. He'll be a fine man, like his father."

The barb did not go unnoticed by Uther, who made a point of ignoring his brother-in-law's jibe. "Albion can use all the fine men it can get," the King replied in a neutral tone of voice while Ygraine gave Tristan a look of reproach.

Tristan desisted. "Indeed it can. So tell me everything that I've missed. I'm sure Camelot has been anything but dull in my absence."

Ygraine looked like she was trying very hard not to smile and Uther was watching her like she was a treasure, which incidentally was the only thing the two men had ever agreed on.

"We must wait until we reach your chambers," Ygraine said, blue eyes dancing.

Tristan wasn't sure what to expect. The last time he'd seen that look on her face, she'd told him Uther Pendragon had proposed marriage. He was man enough to admit he'd been angry that he'd heard nothing from Uther himself beforehand, no request for Ygraine's hand or assurances that Ygraine would be taken care of. A mere warlord at the time, Uther's life had been anything but stable, his prospects unpredictable at best.

As much as it galled him, Tristan knew why Uther had done it that way. Had Tristan said no in his position of guardian to his sister, Ygraine would have been out of Uther's reach forever. Not that Tristan could have broken her heart in such a fashion in any case but Uther was ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted.

It was up to Uther to close the door when they reached Tristan's quarters because Ygraine spun around and seized her brother's hands in his, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm with child," Ygraine announced cheerfully, looking every bit as thrilled as she had the day she had accepted Uther's suit.

Tristan was struck speechless. "You... really?"

Ygraine laughed in sheer elation. "Yes! At long last." She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "I'd almost given up hope. Can you believe it?"

Tristan was too gobsmacked to react but he hugged her back and whispered fervent congratulations in her ear. No-one deserved to be happy more than she.

Ygraine shone like the sun as she made the announcement and Uther was helpless to do anything but be grateful that a man couldn't go blind from staring at the radiance of one's own wife for too long. It was as if the confirmation of her pregnancy had brought her into full flower.

"It's truly a miracle," Uther declared, never taking his gaze away from Ygraine.

"How?" Tristan choked out at last, his tongue finally forming the question racing through his mind.

Ygraine's cheek turned pink. "You were married, Tristan. You know very well how."

"No, I don't mean that," Tristan quickly amended, unsure how to phrase what he wished to say without offending her. He wouldn't hurt Ygraine for the world. "I mean that I thought you were... it seemed that you couldn't... Something Gaius and Alice tried worked?"

"We were honoured by a visit from the High Priestess Nimueh," Uther informed him, for her knew Ygraine would tell Tristan in any case. "She travelled from the Isle of the Blessed and stayed for some weeks."

"The High Priestess?" Tristan asked with genuine interest, eyebrows rising. "What did she do?"

"She was wonderful," Ygraine enthused. "She used her magic and now we finally have our child."

"What kind of magic?" Tristan pressed on. "It must have been powerful if no-one within Camelot was able to perform it."

"Creating life is no easy feat," Uther put in mildly. "Nimueh was able to do what was asked of her. That's all that matters." He gave Tristan a hard look. "I'll leave you two alone. There's work to be done."

And with that, Uther swept out of the room, leaving his wife to handle her brother.

"There's something you and Uther aren't telling me," Tristan realized and the momentary flash of guilt in Ygraine's expression confirmed it. "Ygraine, what is it?"

"Can't you just be happy for me?" Ygraine pleaded softly, begging him with her eyes and Tristan couldn't bring himself to push the issue further.

"Of course I'm happy for you, dear one," Tristan assured her and kissed her forehead. "Always." His lips lifted upwards. "You will have a strong, healthy child and we shall rejoice for you."

Ygraine tilted her head, regarding him thoughtfully. "Do you ever wish you'd had children, Tristan?"

Tristan's smile faded slightly. "My first wish will always be that my Elinor could still be with us. The rest would be the will of the gods."

Ygraine knew better than to suggest that he was still young enough to marry again. It seemed to be the fate of those born to the House of Amlawdd to love only once and with their whole heart. Something inside of Tristan had died when fever had carried Elinor away from him.

"I know I don't say it enough, brother, but we love you, Anna and I," Ygraine told him gently.

Tristan took her hands and smiled, pride in his voice. "You truly are the heart and soul of Camelot, Ygraine. If your son inherits half of your spirit and compassion, he will be a greater king than his father could ever hope to be."

"Why do you disapprove of him?" Ygraine asked, her frustration in that regard boiling over a little. "Uther's a good man."

"You and I have a very different definition of 'good' if that is the case," Tristan replied, clenching his teeth at the hurt look in his sister's eyes. "Ygraine, it's not my intention to make your life more difficult. I'm sorry that I can't like him."

"Tristan, I know that Uther is not an easy man but he truly wants only the best for me," Ygraine told him, placing a hand over her heart. "For us," she amended with a smile, moving her hand to touch her belly. "Please, all I ask is that you treat Uther with the same respect you give so freely to Loth. You would never speak to him as you do to my husband."

"I would, if it ever came to a choice between Loth and Anna," Tristan replied without hesitation. "I know I'm protective of my sisters but I'm too set in my ways to change now. I'd do anything for either of you."

"Then do this," Ygraine urged him. "Make peace with Uther once and for all. For me. For my child. What kind of example will you set for my son if you're constantly at his father's throat?"

She had him and she knew it. This child would be blood kin to Tristan, another nephew to treasure, and Ygraine knew well that nothing was more important to him than family.

"Very well," Tristan agreed, embracing her one last time. "For you and your son."

"Thank you," Ygraine sighed in relief. "You're the best brother I've ever had."

"I'm the only brother you've ever had," Tristan teased her and they both burst out laughing.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Gorlois met Tristan on the training fields in full chain mail and clapped his old friend on the shoulder in welcome. "So do the Knights of Caerleon have the skill to best the Black Knight of Camelot or does that honour still fall solely to our best and bravest?"

"Gorlois," Tristan grinned, gladly shaking hands with him. "I'm afraid Camelot's honour needs defending. Caerleon's finest are nipping at our fair city's heels."

"Then we'd best get to it," Gorlois replied, drawing his sword and in a heartbeat the two greatest Knights of the Realm were performing a dangerous dance across the training grounds, blades flashing in the sunlight. It didn't take them long to draw an audience as they struck at each other once and again, swords swinging in swift, expert arcs that the squires watched with envy.

Red against black, dragon against eagle, the two men gave no quarter. The clash of steel rang out in the clear morning air, strike and parry, thrust and block, until Gorlois had his blade at Tristan's throat and Tristan's was pressed to Gorlois' groin. The stalemate ticked on as both men measured the outcome.

Gorlois let out a guffaw. "A pleasure attempting to defeat you, Sir Tristan, as always."

"Likewise, Sir Gorlois," Tristan replied. Both men stepped back and bowed as applause rang out from the sidelines. "Loth was the only man in Caerleon who could give me a challenge to rival yours."

"I thought it was common knowledge that great skill with a sword is a requirement for any man who marries one of your sisters," Gorlois chuckled as he sheathed his weapon.

"One thing I will say for both of them is that they attracted strong men," Tristan conceded. "Never let it be said that the House of Amlawdd backs down from a challenge, be it on or off the battlefield."

"If you think that's bad, you should try being wedded to a priestess," Gorlois confided, shaking his head. "No-one argues quite like them."

"Yes, in fact I hear that Nimueh graced you with her presence while I was away," Tristan spoke up and Gorlois rolled his eyes.

"'Graced' is an interesting way to put it. A visit from my wife's sister is always a trial, no matter how noble her intentions," Gorlois replied smartly. "She delights in discomfiting people. The priests of the New Religion were not at all pleased to find her spreading the good word of the Old Religion, as it were."

"I'm sure they tried to stop her," Tristan said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"And without success, naturally," Gorlois confirmed. "Honestly, the priests speak as if Nimueh might sprout wings and horns at a moment's notice. I can honestly say without malice that my wife and her sister are witches but that doesn't make them demons."

That observation made Tristan smile in amusement. "That doesn't make you rethink your faith?"

"I follow God, not the priests," Gorlois replied logically. "I can see the merit in both points of view and Vivienne is much the same. It's a good balance."

"It's a shame the Religions can't live in such harmony," Tristan said grimly, then lowered his voice. "Speaking of Nimueh... Ygraine tells me she helped her and Uther conceive."

Gorlois stilled, shooting Tristan a sidelong glance. "So I'm told."

"You knew." It was a statement, not a question.

"Vivienne knew, so I know," Gorlois said simply, as if that were the most natural thing in the world. And to him, it was. "Ask your questions and I'll tell you what I can."

"I only have one: how was it accomplished?" Tristan said, getting straight to the point.

Gorlois huffed out a laugh. "Naturally, you choose the one question I can't answer. You'd do better to consult Vivienne in that respect."

"She approved of all this?" Tristan wondered and Gorlois sobered, his humour disappearing.

"Vivienne and Gaius both had reservations," Gorlois admitted at length, looking Tristan squarely in the eyes. "You're troubled."

"Interfering with nature is troubling," Tristan replied. "Please don't mistake me, Gorlois. My sister deserves a family more than any person I know but it wouldn't be the first time that Uther's run roughshod over the rules to get what he wanted."

"Determination has certainly never been in short supply where Uther's concerned," Gorlois allowed. "It's served him well for the most part."

Tristan regarded Gorlois with a slight smile. "Ever the diplomat."

"Diplomacy has its place," Gorlois nodded, "but sometimes the truth is more prudent, however harsh it may prove to be."

"Wise words, my friend," Tristan concurred. "On that note, I go in search of your wife."

"Happy hunting," Gorlois chuckled as the Black Knight turned away from him.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

A few hours later, Tristan strolled into the council chamber where Uther was conferring with his advisors. Gaius noted his entrance and the two men shared a long look that had the physician looking grimmer than usual without a word being spoken.

Tristan was in no hurry. He leaned against a column, arms folded across his chest, and observed as Uther signed paper after paper, debated points with councillor after councillor. It didn't take long for his vigil to be noticed or for his watchful silence to make people uncomfortable and it occurred to him that there was something to be said for Nimueh's choice of tactics.

One by one, people drifted out of the chamber until only Uther, Gaius and Tristan remained. Uther glowered at Tristan, his patience wearing thin.

"Was there something you wanted, Tristan?" the King asked in a clipped tone.

"My sister has asked that I make peace with you," Tristan replied matter-of-factly.

"She's been asking you to do that since we wed," Uther reminded him pointedly, blowing on the last signature he'd inscribed to dry the ink. "What's changed?"

"Children change everything simply by existing," Tristan said, eyes narrowing on the King. "Which brings me rather neatly to the subject of an interesting conversation I just had with Vivienne regarding the nature of this child's conception."

Uther visibly gritted his teeth. "Will that woman never cease interfering?" he muttered under his breath, looking like he'd like to strangle Vivienne if she came within reach.

"Vivienne speaks her mind because she cares. If she held her tongue, you'd have cause for concern," Tristan said tersely, a hint of a growl creeping into his tone. "I find the fact that you've blatantly ignored the advice of Gaius, Alice and Vivienne together quite... _disturbing_, Uther."

"Ygraine desired a child above all else," Uther argued.

"And you desired an heir," Tristan shot back, the words dripping with accusation. "Enough to disregard the risks involved in using such powerful methods. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I have done my duty by my wife and my kingdom," Uther snapped, coming to his feet to glare at Tristan. "Without an heir, Camelot is vulnerable."

"Camelot can crumble for all I care," Tristan replied harshly. "My loyalty is to my sister. And it's for her sake that I say this."

Tristan advanced on the King until they were eye-to-eye.

"I will hold my peace after this day. I will fight and bow and do my duty as required. I will treat you as my brother according to my sister's wishes but know this, Uther – if any harm comes to Ygraine, if a hair on her head bears the cost of this... it will not pass unchallenged," Tristan said with a deadly calm that sent a chill of warning down the King's spine.

With those words, both promise and threat, the Black Knight walked away.


	4. The Price

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I appreciate it!

**The Dark Night of the Soul**

**The Price**

"My lady, you are most welcome." Ygraine greeted Nimueh with a heartfelt smile and as much grace as she could muster with her belly swollen to what seemed like ridiculous proportions. The Queen tried not to waddle too much as the High Priestess ascended the stairs with the Blood Guard at her heels.

"Fecundity looks good on you, Your Majesty," Nimueh said with a teasing grin, leaning forward to give the kiss of peace. "I hope my visit will not be too much of an inconvenience?"

"Not at all," Ygraine assured her. "In fact, I hope your visit portends something good. Perhaps something that will allow me to sleep on my stomach again?" The hope in her voice set Nimueh to laughing as the two women retreated back into the castle.

"You are indeed close to your time, Ygraine," Nimueh said knowingly. "It seemed only fitting that I be here at the end as I was at the beginning."

"Oh, you have no idea how good that sounds," Ygraine said in sheer relief. "As much as I've wanted this child, I'll be so glad to have him out rather than in."

Nimueh grinned. "Vivienne said much the same thing before she gave birth to Morgause."

"And I sympathise entirely," Ygraine declared, looking aggrieved. "What I wouldn't give for a full night's sleep."

"I'm afraid that will be more elusive than ever once your prince makes his appearance," Vivienne put in as she joined her sister and her Queen on the way to the quarters the High Priestess would be given for the duration of her stay. Vivienne embraced her sister, looking rather amused. "Come to wreak havoc again? I think the bishop nearly had an apoplexy when he was informed that you'd returned."

"Good. The blood ought to go somewhere other than his face," Nimueh quipped, thinking back to the way the exceedingly pious man had acted towards her the last time she'd shown her face in Camelot. "I don't know how you put up with him, Vivienne."

"I don't. Gorlois tired of being told his wife was Satan's handmaiden," Vivienne said primly. "He and the bishop are no longer on speaking terms."

"There are times, sister, when I think you chose well," Nimueh said with a ripple of humour, "but don't you dare tell Gorlois I said that."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Vivienne said innocently, then grimaced. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. He's away at present, fighting on the northern plains."

"Then my secret is safe," Nimueh jested and Ygraine laughed at the pair of them.

"I apologize for Uther's absence, Nimueh," Ygraine spoke up. "He would have been here to greet you himself but he's training with his Knights and I didn't think you'd mind."

"Formality is overrated," Nimueh said, waving off any concerns the Queen might have had on that score. "Besides, we're friends, are we not? We shouldn't stand on ceremony."

Ygraine stroked her distended stomach and beamed at the High Priestess. "You shall always be a friend to Camelot, my lady."

"And I to you," Nimueh asserted in turn, looking very pleased indeed. "Now come, Ygraine. I think standing for long periods isn't something you enjoy right now."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

It seemed at times as if the whole kingdom was holding its breath, waiting for the arrival of its new prince. The idea that it might be a girl-child was not even considered.

Days went by and Ygraine tried not to give in to the temptation to insult Uther's parentage for giving in to her wishes. In all the years that she'd dreamed of having children, no-one had thought to warn her about the swollen feet or the aching back or the need to relieve herself every twenty minutes because there wasn't enough room in her body to hold a child and a functioning bladder at the same time.

The Queen was, in short, feeling bloated and uncomfortable and was fast running out of patience. The only thing that held her temper in check was the knowledge that the end was nigh and her body would eventually be hers and hers alone once more. She would hold her child in her arms before long and hopefully her fingers and toes would stop tingling.

"Are you still having cramps?" Vivienne asked solicitously as the two women sat in Ygraine's chambers and the Queen nodded. Morgause was sitting on the rug, playing with the doll her father had given her before his departure.

"It's been hours but they're not getting any worse, so it can't be labour," Ygraine said, letting her breath whistle out between her teeth. Her head fell into her hands with a groan. "How long did Alice say this can go on?"

"Well, she did say it can last for days," Vivienne admitted, feeling for her friend as she thought back to her own experience. Vivienne had been fortunate as Morgause's birth had been relatively quick. From beginning to end it had only gone on for a few hours. Ygraine had been suffering false contractions since before sunrise. Uther had been beside himself until Alice had assured them that Ygraine's body was simply preparing itself for what was to come.

"Think of it as practice, Your Majesties," Alice had said. "I won't be far, so call if the cramping becomes stronger."

Ygraine sighed, looking tired and miserable. "I wish Uther was here."

"I can send for him," Vivienne offered, coming to sit down beside the Queen. "You know he'd come right away. I think he's afraid that he'll miss it all if he strays too far from your side."

"No, he has so much work to finish," Ygraine murmured, pushing her hair away from her face. "There'll be time enough for him to fret once I'm giving birth."

"And fret he will," Vivienne nodded, half-smiling at the idea of their warrior King being reduced to six feet of nerves once the main event began. She helped Ygraine shift slightly and gathered up the Queen's long fair hair, braiding it quickly to keep it out of the way. "I think he'd come into the birthing chamber with you if he were allowed."

"He should be allowed," Ygraine complained. "Then I can break his hand."

Vivienne bit back a grin. "You're just saying that because your back is hurting," she pointed out and started rubbing the lower part of Ygraine's spine. "There, is that better?"

Ygraine practically melted in relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Gorlois used to do this for me," Vivienne recalled. "I was dreadful at the end. I couldn't decide whether to yell at him or hug him most of the time. He didn't know what to do with me."

"You miss him," Ygraine murmured.

"I always miss Gorlois when he's away," Vivienne replied, her dark eyes taking on a faraway look. She glanced at her daughter, who was trying to copy her mother and twine the doll's hair into a plait. "Morgause keeps asking me if Papa's coming back yet."

"I'm sorry he had to go in Uther's place," Ygraine said regretfully but Vivienne shook her head.

"Uther's place right now is with you," Vivienne told her firmly. "Gorlois knows this and so do I. Don't apologise for what can't be changed."

"I just hate to separate a family to bring mine into being." Ygraine stared down at her swollen stomach and tilted her head. "I don't suppose you'd consider making an appearance today, little one?"

"How's the baby going to get out of your tummy, Auntie 'Graine?" Morgause piped up, giving up on the doll's hair. "Papa says polite people use doors."

Ygraine smiled indulgently, picturing a messenger showing up with a bright-eyed infant in his arms. If only it were that easy. "And what does Papa say impolite people use?"

"Windows and chimneys," Morgause replied, as if it should have been obvious. "Naughty people are sneaky."

"I suppose you could say the baby's going to use a door," Ygraine decided, trying to figure out how to put this so the girl would understand. "He's going to knock very hard so that I know he wants to come out." She ignored Vivienne, who was snickering from behind her.

"Oh, you've done it now," Vivienne said softly in a sing-song tone.

"Is your belly-button the doorknob?" Morgause continued, looking puzzled, and Vivienne started laughing in earnest. Ygraine swatted at her friend, trying not to burst into hysterics herself.

"Uh... yes? Sort of." Ygraine groped for a logical explanation. "Come here, sweetheart."

Morgause climbed up onto the bed and Ygraine placed the girl's hand on her lower belly.

"It's moving!" Morgause exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers. "Is he knocking now?" She put her ear and both hands against Ygraine's stomach, as if listening for the ocean. "I can't hear anything."

"Well, it's not a wooden door," Ygraine told her kindly. "Do you hear anything when you knock on your tummy?"

Morgause tried it and shook her head. "It tickles," she giggled and Ygraine ruffled her pale blonde hair, planting a kiss on the top of her head and wishing that it would tickle instead of hurt when her child decided to greet the world.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The patrol riding through the Forest of Ascetir had just finished their first sweep for the day when they heard it – a low rumbling, a repetitive growl that seemed to come from nowhere. The horses came to a stop without prompting from their masters, snorting and prancing in alarm.

Sir Alun raised his hand, signalling for silence as he listened, and drew his sword. His soldiers followed suit without a word, all ready and awaiting his orders. By his side his young squire, Dafydd, swallowed hard and did his best to keep his horse in check.

The woods were quiet. Even the birds had fallen silent, as if none dared breathe in the vicinity of the sound. The horses shied, eyes rolling back in their heads as the threat drew nearer. The wind died and a shiver slithered through Alun.

Then Robert let out a terrible cry, his horse reared and Alun wheeled his steed, sword aloft to confront the creature that barrelled out of the woods and sank its fangs into Robert, tearing him out of the saddle and away like a twig. The first blow was struck as another knight charged it from the side, the blade glancing off the beast's hide as if it were metal, and the man was swept aside with one blow from powerful limbs.

Alun let out a battle cry and surged forward, determined to slay the monster before it claimed yet another life. The creature roared and leapt at Alun, its claws sinking deep into the flanks of his horse as it crashed down upon him, dragging rider and steed onto the ground in a mess of flesh, teeth and steel.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The lad who rode into Camelot on a horse frothing at the mouth from strain almost fell from the saddle in exhaustion. Sir Rhys caught him before he could hit the flagstones and brushed the wild mop of dirty hair back from his face.

"Dafydd?" he asked, recognizing the boy who trailed after Sir Alun so faithfully. "Water, now!" he barked at the nearest servant as the other knights approached. "Dafydd, what happened? Can you speak? Someone tend to the horse!"

"M-monster..." Dafydd panted. "Forest... Ascetir."

Rhys wasted no further time questioning him. He sent word immediately to the King and was surprised when he arrived with the High Priestess Nimueh at his side. The Lady of the Isle stood tall and proud in the twilight, dark hair blowing gently in the breeze as she gazed down at the squire. The knights bowed in respect, a motion she accepted as her due.

"Tell me what you saw, boy," Uther bade Dafydd, who looked dumbstruck to find himself in the presence of the King of Camelot. He opened his mouth but nought came out.

"Tell us as you would tell your master," Nimueh told him and the boy's face tightened.

"S-sir Alun's dead, Your Majesty," he stuttered. "A great beast, i-it came out of the woods in the F-forest of Ascetir. It attacked our party."

"What kind of beast?" Uther asked, all his attention now focused on the lad.

"I've never s-seen anything like it," Dafydd said, a tremor in his voice. "It... it had the body of a leopard... and the head of a serpent." The squire coughed, still trying to catch his breath after his hell-for-leather ride to the Citadel. "It killed Sir Alun and Sir Robert. I didn't s-see how many others."

"Send for Gaius and Sir Tristan this instant," Uther snapped at the nearest guard, who rushed to obey.

"You're sure that's what you saw?" Nimueh asked, moving closer to the frightened young man. Her eyes, all the bluer against the fiery sunset, held him captive. "You're positive?"

"Yes, P-priestess," he said hurried, eyes wide with remembered terror. "It was twice the height of the l-largest horse I've seen."

Nimueh lifted her chin, her lips set in a thin line. "It is the Questing Beast."

"You know this creature?" Uther prompted her and Nimueh nodded.

"One bite spells death," Nimueh replied gravely, holding the King's gaze. "There's no cure for its venom. The men it attacked are beyond help."

"There are settlements on the outskirts of the forest," Uther said grimly. "We must ensure their safety. It's my duty."

Uther made to walk away but Nimueh caught him by the arm, her expression steely. "Beware, Your Majesty. The Questing Beast is an ill omen of the highest order."

Uther nodded and she released him, moving towards the Citadel as the knights readied themselves to depart. The sun had sunk beyond the horizon by the time the company of men was prepared to leave. Gaius finished putting his supplies in his saddlebags as the last vestige of light vanished.

"Uther!" Vivienne's voice rang out in the fire-lit courtyard and the lady hurried down the stairs towards the King, who had been speaking with Sir Tristan, resplendent in his chain mail and black surcoat.

"What is it, Vivienne?"

"It's Ygraine. Her waters have broken," the priestess said as she reached them. "Alice is with her."

Uther's green eyes darted towards the part of the Citadel that housed his wife, his expression stunned.

"Sire, if you wish me to stay..." Gaius offered but Uther shook his head.

"No, Gaius, if there are wounded you must go," the King insisted, swallowing hard. "Ygraine is in good hands with your Alice."

Tristan pulled on his gloves and swung himself up into the saddle, looking long and hard at the window that marked Uther and Ygraine's chamber.

"Leave this Questing Beast to me," Tristan said with the confidence borne of long experience. "Go to Ygraine and I'll meet my nephew when I return."

Uther simply nodded and sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste with Vivienne trailing after him, her skirts gathered up so she wouldn't trip over them. When they reached the top, Nimueh was standing there, watching the warriors as they followed their Black Knight into the gloom. Uther didn't pause but Vivienne came to a stop.

"It doesn't bother you that they're hunting such a powerful creature?" Vivienne asked of her sister, worry darkening her eyes almost to black.

Nimueh's gaze did not leave the riders. "It will be reborn. That's its nature."

"It's not a coincidence that the Questing Beast is here tonight, is it?" Vivienne wondered, searching her sister's face.

"I suspect not, Vivienne," Nimueh replied after a few moments and stroked Vivienne's long hair comfortingly. "You're worried."

"A bad omen appears the same night Ygraine goes into labour and you're not?" Vivienne asked, looking anxious.

Nimueh's expression flickered with concern, something shifting behind her eyes that made Vivienne's stomach twist into knots. "We should go to Alice."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Uther paced outside the birthing chamber, unable to sit still even for a minute. All he could think was '_Ygraine, Ygraine, Ygraine'_ and Nimueh's warnings of a price echoed in his memory. The King had never felt so exhilarated and frightened at the same time in his entire life.

An ear-splitting shriek pierced the air and Uther flinched against his wife's cry. Maids hurried in and out of the room, ferrying hot water and anything Alice and Vivienne asked for. Not one of them would look at him, their gazes firmly on the floor as they scurried back and forth. It had been hours – far longer than was normal if Uther had his facts right and the knowledge was making him ill.

Across the corridor, Nimueh sat in a chair with her hands folded in her lap, her calm company all that was keeping Uther from flinging the doors wide and forcing his way to Ygraine's side. Her gaze was locked on the doors, never wavering, as if she could see through the wood to the workings within.

Inside, Ygraine was sitting against a pile of pillows, her grip on Vivienne's hand so tight that the priestess's fingers were turning blue. Sweaty and pale, she groaned as yet another contraction seized her. Alice murmured sacred words, her eyes glowing golden, and furrowed her brow when Ygraine's moans did not abate as they should have.

Vivienne could feel it in the air – the magic that surrounded them. It weighed heavy in the room, pressing down on her and Alice so hard it seemed to steal the breath from their lungs. The two women exchanged a look of alarm and Vivienne began chanting under her breath, repeating the spell that should have relieved the Queen's pain so that Alice could concentrate on delivering the child. Spell after spell had failed them, dragging out Ygraine's suffering.

Ygraine bit back a scream as the baby crowned and tears were forced from her eyes. "Oh God, it hurts," she sobbed, seemingly hours of exertion robbing her of all composure. "Please, say we're almost there, please, please..." She was begging now, praying for it to be over as her body felt as if it might split apart.

The metallic scent of blood permeated the air and Alice's movements became swifter, her eyes flashing arcane fire as she poured every ounce of power she had into her patient. Ygraine's body gave one last heave, instinct alone forcing her muscles to expel the infant, and she fell back against the pillows, breathing hard.

Alice pulled the child free and placed him into the waiting arms of an assistant, who swaddled the child to keep him warm as Alice worked furiously. A red stain oozed outwards and Ygraine's eyes rolled back in her head.

"Ygraine!" Vivienne cried, reaching for her friend as the child began wailing.

Nimueh surged to her feet and charged inside with Uther hot on her heels, demanding an answer for the stricken look on her face. He stopped cold as he took in the scene before him. The maid was trying not to burst into tears as she gently handed a tiny wriggling bundle to the half-conscious Queen, who was being propped up by Vivienne. The girl fled, sobbing, the moment the task was done.

There was blood, so much blood, coating Alice's arms and draining the colour from Ygraine's skin as surely as it stained everything else.

Nimueh came to Vivienne's side and leaned over the bed, reaching out to lay a hand on Ygraine's cheek. The touch was gentle, reverent, and the entire scene seemed unreal to Uther, who was still trying to process what he was seeing.

"The magic fought us, sister," Vivienne whispered brokenly. The Queen was holding her son with shaking limbs, deathly pale, her lips grey.

The words reverberated in Uther's mind and the room spun out of control, rushing in on him so fast it knocked the wind out of him.

The magic fought us. Blood. Ygraine lying there, too pale... Ygraine.

_No_.

Uther was at Ygraine's side in the space of a heartbeat, angrily gathering up the soiled sheets with his bare hands to cast them away from his wife.

"Help her!" Uther roared, his hands soaked in Ygraine's blood. His angry, accusing gaze shifted from Vivienne to Alice and finally to Nimueh. Alice was crying openly, tears rolling down her cheeks as she helped the dying Queen hold the child steady, powerless to do anything more.

"I cannot," Nimueh confessed, her voice ragged with realisation and regret. "The magic, it... her life was the price."

"_No!_"

"Uther..." Ygraine murmured, her voice thready but enough to halt Uther's raging. She gave him a smile, so weak yet so proud as she stroked her baby's cheek, still wet from his birthing. "Look upon our son."

And because it was Ygraine, because she asked, Uther looked. He let his eyes take in the pink, scrunched-up face and listen to the cries that testified to a healthy set of lungs. A boy. Their son. The child Ygraine had wanted more than anything in existence.

"He's perfect, Ygraine," Uther choked out, turning his gaze back to his wife.

"Call him Arthur," she whispered and with no more than a sigh she was gone.

Uther's world stopped turning. Time froze and everything else faded as his own pulse thundered in his ears. Ygraine was dead. The notion floated, settling into his consciousness like a leaf twirling to earth.

"It was supposed to be me," he breathed, a bargain made nine months ago crashing to the forefront.

He wasn't even aware he was moving at first.

"_I_ was to bear the cost, not her!" Uther raged, catching Nimueh by the throat and shoving her against the wall as Vivienne shouted a protest, trying to prise the King's fingers away from her sister's neck.

Nimueh's eyes glinted gold and Uther was thrown back, landing at the foot of the bed that held the body of his wife and his crying son. The High Priestess sagged against the wall, coughing and rubbing at the skin where he'd tried to strangle her in his grief. "I am sorry," she croaked helplessly.

Vivienne pulled her sister away and Alice sniffled, gently taking Arthur from his dead mother's arms.

"Would you like to hold him, Sire?" she asked, her hands leaving bloody prints on the newborn prince's blankets. Uther nodded numbly and the healer passed the precious bundle into his father's keeping. "We'll give you some time."

The door closed and Uther Pendragon wept.


	5. The Challenge

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**The Dark Night of the Soul**

**The Challenge**

The first rays of light were warming the sky when the Knights returned to the Citadel. Bloodied, weary yet triumphant, they rode into Camelot at an unhurried pace. The streets were largely empty, the people only just waking as the cock-crow alerted them to the oncoming dawn.

Tristan rode at their head, dirty and battered. It had been a wild, hard chase; one that had left them all sore and gasping for breath by its end. The creature had fallen under the Black Knight's sword but had extracted a price for its defeat – three gashes in his side, the claws tearing through his mail as if it were linen.

Though nothing was broken and Gaius had doctored the wounds with his customary care, the throbbing ache continued unabated and the gait of Tristan's horse did nothing to ease his discomfort. He grimaced as he dismounted, his hand instinctively moving to his injury, and looked about. It was quiet, the torches still burning from the night watch.

"My lord, please accompany me to my chambers," Gaius spoke up. "Those wounds require more attention than I was able to give them on the road."

Tristan nodded, too tired to argue, but his eyes strayed towards the windows where Ygraine and Uther had their private chambers. No light shone forth from the rooms, so Tristan could only presume the birth was long over.

The sound of muted weeping coming from the court physician's apartments alerted both men to the fact that something was not right. Gaius frowned as he opened the door and Tristan was alarmed to find Alice sitting at Gaius' small table, poring over healing texts by candlelight. A feeling of dread settled into his gut.

"Alice," Gaius said, rushing forward to his beloved as Tristan hung back a respectful distance. "Alice, what's wrong?"

"The Queen," Alice lamented, her voice quivering as she tried to keep it even. Her eyes fixed on Tristan and widened in sorrow. "Oh, my lord, I'm so sorry..."

"Sorry for what?" Tristan demanded, surging forward but Gaius interposed himself between the knight and his betrothed to stop him. "Alice, what happened?"

"The Queen, she... she died delivering the child," Alice managed to choke out, looking as though she might start crying afresh. "Nothing I tried worked. Every spell failed. Even Vivienne couldn't... Nimueh said her life was the price."

"Gods no..." Gaius whispered in horror.

Tristan went rigid as he stared down at her, his blood turning to ice where he stood.

"The child," Gaius said urgently, getting down on his knees and catching her gaze. "Alice, did the child survive?"

"He did," Alice nodded quickly, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "A fine boy. She... she named him Arthur. He's beautiful, Gaius. He... he has his mother's eyes."

"So Uther has his son." Tristan's voice was bitter, almost dead. "At the expense of my sister."

"Tristan –" Gaius began, seeing the growing darkness in the Black Knight's expression.

"Do what you brought me here for," Tristan cut him off ruthlessly.

"My lord, please do not do anything rash –" Gaius tried again only to be silenced by one murderous look from Tristan.

"Tend the wound. _Now_."

"My lord," Alice said gently, circling the table as Gaius snapped his mouth shut and bustled away to retrieve what he needed. "My lord, the child is innocent."

Tristan's crystal-hard gaze came to rest on the woman and cut like a knife. "Do not mistake me, Alice. It's good that Uther has an heir."

"It is?" Alice asked warily as Gaius returned with a needle, silk thread, towels and honey.

"Yes," Tristan said coldly. "He's going to need one."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

By the time the sun rose high into the sky, word had spread among the people of Camelot. The Queen was dead, her light extinguished in the act of giving her husband and kingdom its long-awaited heir to the throne, the newborn Prince Arthur. People went about their business quietly, the entire city hushed as if they might disturb the King in his hour of grief.

In stark contrast, Tristan Dubois came to the Citadel gates and let out a thunderous bellow.

"_Uther Pendragon!_"

People stopped and stared as the Black Knight, in fresh mail and black surcoat, planted his ebony pennant on the flagstones.

"_Uther Pendragon!_" he shouted again and people scurried away, staying as far from the enraged warrior as possible.

Inside the Citadel, servants and nobles alike came to their windows to see what the commotion was about. In his chambers, Uther didn't hear it at first. He stared with red-rimmed eyes at the infant boy he held in his arms, sleeping soundly after being sated by the wet-nurse Alice had produced. The woman had retreated, leaving King and Prince alone.

The room bore no hint of the tragedy that had marked it. The bloodstained sheets were gone, the healing supplies whisked away. It was as if Ygraine had never been there, had not sweated and cried through a torturous labour to give life to a child she'd loved with her last breath.

It didn't seem real. Uther kept expecting to look up and find her smiling at him from the bed, golden hair splayed out across the pillow. Or snoring, though she'd never admit it. Instead, the bed was empty, immaculately made... and Ygraine would never lie there again.

Uther studied the little boy who slumbered so peacefully, unaware of the loss he had suffered before he'd been in the world a single hour. It was unbelievable how tiny he was, how fragile. His eyes had not been open for long after the wet-nurse passed him to Uther but it had been enough for him to see their colour – blue, like Ygraine's.

The King knew nothing of children but he could not help thinking that Arthur was beautiful. Or handsome, really, he ought to say handsome though he doubted that Ygraine would have cared if he were the ugliest child in history. All that mattered – _had_ mattered, he corrected himself with a pang of grief – to his wife was that Arthur was theirs.

With that in mind, Uther brushed his lips across his son's forehead and uttered his first true word as a father. "Arthur..."

A knock at the door startled Uther out of his reverie.

"Come," Uther said automatically, knowing no-one would dare disturb him now unless the situation was dire. It was Gaius who walked in, looking graver than ever.

"Sire... I'm sorry to disturb you but... do you not hear it?" the physician asked with mournful eyes.

"Hear what?" Uther had been so absorbed in his own thoughts, in his son, that he hadn't detected so much as a whisper but as the rest of the world impinged on his consciousness again, the distant roar finally reached him.

"_Uther Pendragon!_"

"It's Tristan, Sire," Gaius said grimly and the colour drained out of Uther's face, a near-forgotten threat clawing its way to the forefront of his mind. "He's at the gates."

_If any harm comes to Ygraine, if a hair on her head bears the cost of this... it will not pass unchallenged_, Tristan had promised and now he was living up to his word. Uther strode to the window and stared at the tableau below. The Black Knight, in full regalia, stood like a spirit conjured from the depths of Hell, awaiting his chance to avenge his sister.

"Gaius, take my son," Uther ordered and the older man didn't hesitate to do as he was asked. Arthur yawned but didn't wake, settling into Gaius' arms without complaint.

Uther was in the courtyard shortly afterwards, flanked by Sir Bors and Sir Rhys. Tristan waited for them to come to him, his face twisted into an expression of barely-contained fury. The moment Uther stopped, Tristan cast down his gauntlet.

"Tristan, I beg you not to do this," Uther said softly, catching Tristan's eyes with his own. "Ygraine would not forgive us for this." The King was begging, invoking the one name he knew to have power over the man before him. "I do not wish to fight you."

"I keep my promises," Tristan said, steel woven into his tone. "Now take up my challenge, for if your knights try to fight on your behalf, I will cut them down one by one until you alone remain."

Uther stared at the brother of his wife for a long moment and recognised the resolve in Tristan's stance. He would not back down, would not retreat or reconsider. The Black Knight's loyalty had been secure only as long as Ygraine drew breath. With her passing, the feeble peace between them was at an end and Tristan would accept nothing less than vengeance.

With a heavy heart, the King leaned down and picked up the gauntlet. "I, Uther Pendragon, accept your challenge."

"Single combat. Noon tomorrow," Tristan stated and his voice chilled all who heard it. "To the death."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The news spread like wildfire. The Queen's brother, Tristan Dubois, had challenged the King to mortal combat. The people were in shock, trying to understand why. It was a well-known fact that women could and did die in childbirth. Ygraine had taken the same risk as any other member of her sex by bringing a child into the world.

"I've sent word of Tristan's challenge to his sister Anna in Caerleon," Gaius said, frowning in concern. "Perhaps she can stop this madness."

"She'll never get here in time. The fight's tomorrow," Alice said sadly, taking Gaius' hand in hers.

"She may already be on her way," Vivienne offered, sounding weary as they sat around Gaius' table, all overwrought by a night marred by loss. "When Ygraine went into labour last night, she asked me to send a messenger to Anna. If he rode hard, he should have arrived this morning."

"The King is still in shock," Gaius observed, pursing his lips. "I don't think it's really sunk in yet that Ygraine is gone. The challenge from Tristan has shaken him badly."

"Do you think Uther can win?" Alice looked at Gaius for her answer, her teeth worrying her lower lip at the prospect of the kingdom becoming leaderless.

"I don't know," Gaius admitted. "Uther is a great warrior but he has never met Tristan in battle before. Among the Knights, only Gorlois has been able to consistently hold his own against Tristan."

"They've never duelled in training?" Alice looked perplexed. It was well-known that the Knights practiced against each other regularly.

"Uther and Tristan have never seen eye-to-eye. They've avoided each other wherever possible in the past," Vivienne informed her. "Even the training grounds."

"Well, where's Nimueh? I haven't seen her today at all," Alice asked. "Is she all right?"

"For once in her life, my sister is taking my advice." Vivienne exhaled and rubbed a hand across her forehead. "She has remained in her chambers with the Blood Guard, away from the court."

"Why wouldn't Nimueh be all right?" Gaius wondered and the two women exchanged a tense glance, hesitation written in their every muscle.

"The King was not himself last night," Alice said carefully. "When Ygraine passed, he... he attacked Nimueh."

Gaius' expression was appalled. "He attacked the High Priestess of the Isle?" Their silence was his answer. "What can he have been thinking?"

"He wasn't," Vivienne confided, looking terribly troubled. "You didn't see him, Gaius. Uther was... raging. Out of control. For a moment, I thought he would kill her."

"If word of that were to get out, the people wouldn't stand for it," Gaius mused and the thought alone was alarming. "Nimueh is the spiritual leader of the Old Religion. Those who follow it would certainly turn against Uther."

"We know, which is why we've told no-one but you," Vivienne replied. "Gaius, what can we do? I fear Uther's reaction once he has absorbed all this."

"Let us hope the King lives that long," Gaius said soberly. "If this goes badly for Uther, young Arthur will inherit Camelot before he is two days old."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

People began filling the stands an hour before the duel was scheduled to begin, nobles and commoners alike surrounding the field that would soon host a battle such as Camelot had never seen before. The King would fight the Black Knight and only one would emerge alive.

A carriage rumbled into Camelot not twenty minutes before midday, the horses lathered with sweat. A woman with golden hair jumped out and started running, all thought of decorum cast aside as she rushed towards the arena, her husband hot on her heels.

Tristan was in his tent, being helped into his armour by his manservant while Vivienne paced the length of the interior, watching with anxious eyes.

"Tristan, I beg you," she tried for the hundredth time, her voice rough from arguing with him. "Think of your nephew."

"My nephew deserves a better father than fate has given him," Tristan replied, his tone frosty. Vivienne gritted her teeth and raked a hand through her hair, at her wit's end.

"Do you really think Ygraine would condone you fighting her husband?" One last ditch effort, one last try, and Vivienne had run out of reasons for him to withdraw.

"Ygraine is not here," and as far as Tristan was concerned, that was the end of the matter. Vivienne almost hit him in frustration and wondered how angry he would be if she knocked him out with a shovel or some other type of blunt instrument.

Vivienne's knees almost gave out from sheer relief when the tent flap was thrown aside and Anna Dubois charged inside, her eyes red from grief. She didn't even glance at Vivienne. She made straight for her brother and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.

"Anna..." Tristan hugged her fiercely, stunned and comforted by her presence all at once. Vivienne took that as her cue and ducked outside in silence.

"Tristan, what are you doing?" Anna asked desperately, staring up at him with the blue eyes all three siblings had shared. "I set off when I got Vivienne's message about Ygraine going into labour and then we intercepted a rider on the way who says Ygraine is dead and you've challenged Uther?" She was trembling with emotion, trying to absorb too much information in too short a time. "Gods, Tristan, what happened? I don't understand. Why are you fighting him?"

Tristan smoothed her hair away from her face and held her gaze, his expression grave. "He killed her, Anna. Ygraine's death was his doing."

Anna shook her head in bewilderment. "But... but Ygraine died in childbirth. You cannot blame Uther for that. Would you have challenged Loth if the same had befallen me when I birthed Gwaine?"

"Loth didn't use magic to conceive Gwaine," Tristan explained, his eyes hard with anger. "He didn't sacrifice you to gain a son."

Anna stilled, bloodshot eyes darkening with conflicting emotion as she absorbed that, her expression one of growing consternation. "What are you talking about?"

"Uther knew there would be a price," Tristan said harshly. "Ygraine died to pay it."

And there it was; the answering spark of anger in Anna's face as the knowledge began to sink in. "You're certain of this?"

"I swear upon the life of our nephew," Tristan said gravely but Anna shook her head, worry overriding resentment at the crucial point.

"No, Tristan, please," Anna begged him, catching his gaze as she cupped his face and forced him to look at her. "We have already lost Ygraine. If anything happened to you, I..." She broke off, unable to speak the words. "Withdraw."

Tristan looked down at his youngest sister, breathed deeply, and denied her for the first time in his life. "No, sister." He pulled her into his arms once again, hugging her with all of his strength, and kissed her hair. "I will see this through."

Anna clung to him, burying her head in his shoulder. "Promise me you'll defeat him."

"That is my intention," Tristan assured her.

It did not go unnoticed by Anna that he had not actually promised.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

As Uther and Tristan stepped onto the duelling pitch, the crowd was unusually quiet. They watched in muted anticipation as the King and the Black Knight faced each other.

In the stands, Anna sat beside her husband, holding his hand with a white-knuckled grip as she observed the proceedings, her back ramrod stiff. Vivienne laid one hand on Anna's shoulder, keeping her steady while Nimueh sat at her sister's side, the hood of her cloak drawn up over her face.

Sir Bors came to stand in front of the two combatants, who held their helmets at their sides. "The fight shall be to the Knights' Rules," he proclaimed, "and to the death."

Uther didn't move a muscle as Sir Rhys removed his cape. He stared at Tristan, who waited with his two handed longsword sheathed, for the King to adjust his shield. Only then did Tristan don his helmet, married by evidence of his last battle.

The claws of the Questing Beast had been sharper than any sword, gouging grooves into the face of his visor. The armourers had offered to craft a new one for him but Tristan had declined. He rather liked the marks – a tangible reminder of what he had faced and defeated.

The stadium was silent as the two knights took their stances. Tristan fought with no shield, as was his habit, while the King crouched behind the image of the golden dragon that had become his standard so many years ago.

"Let battle commence," Sir Bors called out and Anna flinched where she sat.

Tristan moved first, ploughing forward and bringing his sword down on Uther's shield with crushing force. Again and again he struck, raining blows down upon the King with a fury. Uther staggered back, trying to deflect each hit only to finally step out from behind his shield and parry the next thrust, the clash of blades ringing out across the field. Steel met steel over and over, the two warriors evenly matched as the crowd held its collective breath.

Uther's shield slammed into Tristan's side and the Black Knight staggered back, spinning his sword in his hand before he charged forward again, hacking ruthlessly until Uther's shield was cloven in two and the King slammed one of the remaining halves into the side of Tristan's head. Tristan twisted to the side and the King's sword was driven home as Anna screamed from the stands.

Tristan fell to his knees and Uther pulled the blade out. He tried to step away but Tristan fisted his hand in Uther's surcoat, dragging him down onto his knees as well.

"This isn't over," Tristan gasped, glowering up at the King with eyes that burned with rage even as his body failed. "If there's a way to claw my way back to take you with me, I'll find it..."

"Tristan!" Anna was at her brother's side, catching his body as it swayed and his heart stopped beating. Uther watched with a lump in his throat as Anna dissolved into sobs with Tristan lying lifeless in her lap. He hadn't even realized she was there, hadn't known she had arrived and would bear witness to such a thing.

Uther got to his feet, feeling a thousand years old, and slowly backed away from the scene. He was vaguely aware of Loth gently lifting his wife away from Tristan's corpse, holding her close as she struggled against him. Loth raised brown eyes to look directly at Uther but there was no anger in his gaze. Only sadness and regret.

Sir Bors came to the King and gently took custody of his sword.

There was no applause, no cheers of victory. The spectators stared at the outcome with wide, sober eyes. Vivienne guided Loth and Anna away with a few soft-spoken words, fighting back tears as she looked at the body of her friend.

Nimueh stared down at Tristan Dubois with sorrow, knowing a good man had just passed away in her presence. The High Priestess knelt beside the body of the fallen Knight and closed his eyelids with gentle fingers. She whispered an ancient prayer and the wind rose, blowing back the hood of her cloak to reveal her visage to the onlookers.

Uther caught a glimpse of Nimueh reaching out to touch Tristan as she had Ygraine in the Queen's dying moments and the bereft King saw red.

"How dare you show your face here?" Uther rumbled, his anger rising with every passing moment. "Have you come to claim Tristan Dubois as well now?"

Nimueh rose slowly, no shrinking violet to be cowed by the anguished ire of any man, be he King or commoner. "I claim nothing and no-one, Uther Pendragon. I pay tribute to a man who shared my faith as your Queen did."

"You have the power of foresight," Uther retorted, advancing on Nimueh without a care for the fact that the eyes of the entire city were on him or that the members of the Blood Guard were reaching for their weapons. "You knew all of this would happen."

"I knew no such thing," Nimueh asserted, keeping her voice low.

"You are banished from my court," Uther snarled, his voice carrying over the crowd.

"Sire, no!" Vivienne protested from the sidelines, horrified.

Gasps and murmurs rang out as the word spread. Shouts of dissent began to emerge from the followers of the Old Religion as their High Priestess stood tall, facing Uther down across the battlefield over the remains of the Black Knight.

Nimueh squared her shoulders. "Have a care, Uther. You don't have any idea what you're doing."

"Get out of my sight," Uther ordered with deadly calm, "and out of my kingdom. Return on pain of death."

Nimueh didn't look away from him for a moment as the crowd erupted. "As you wish."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Uther was into his second pitcher of mead as the moon rose over Camelot. His mind was awhirl with everything that had happened and the certain knowledge that Ygraine – his beautiful Ygraine, _please, please come back_ – would not have forgiven him for killing her brother. Tristan had been so precious to her.

So Uther drank, trying to forget the way Tristan's blood – God help him, the same blood that had flowed in Ygraine's veins and had spilled out onto the sheets only a few short nights ago – had poured out onto the hard ground. He could still hear Anna screaming. She had cursed him for a murderer as he left the duelling pitch, staring at him with her sister's eyes all the while.

"Are you happy now?" Vivienne demanded as she stormed into the dinner hall, shaking with anger and pain and regret. "Have you inflicted enough heartache to make your own go away?"

"I didn't want to kill him," Uther said in a low voice, keeping his eyes on the table before him. "Ygraine treasured him."

"His sisters were all he had. He would have charged down a god for either one of them," Vivienne snapped accusingly, her voice breaking. "How could you accept Tristan's challenge?"

Uther's eyes were burning with anger as he looked up at her. "How could he make such a challenge when my wife's body wasn't even cold?"

At that, all the fight seemed to drain out of Vivienne and she sagged. "Everything is falling apart," she breathed. "I don't understand how this got so far out of control."

"Ygraine was the heart of all of it," Uther said softly, lost in his own thoughts, and drained the last mouthful of mead in his glass. It seemed simple to Uther. Ygraine had held them all together and now she was gone.

"Oh, give me that," Vivienne sniffled, snatching up the flagon and practically falling into a chair to pour herself a glass of the drink that already had the King's head feeling light. She was trembling, the jug unsteady in her hands, and Uther was distantly aware that it splashed into the glass, sending droplets flying.

It was strange to see Vivienne so unravelled, so rudderless, as if she had no idea what to say or do. Vivienne was always poised, completely composed, and yet she drank the entire glass in a few swallows. It hit him then – Tristan had been her friend. Though the Black Knight had held no love for the King of Camelot, Gorlois and Vivienne had won a place in his heart.

Gorlois, who was far from home and had no idea what had transpired in his absence. How Uther yearned for his sturdy presence.

"I wish Gorlois was here," Vivienne murmured, unconsciously echoing Uther's thoughts. She drained her glass and Uther filled it again without a word. The castle seemed empty without Ygraine to brighten it and he found himself glad of the company.

They continued making their way through the mead and if Vivienne looked rumpled and ashamed when she emerged close to midnight and returned to her chambers, there was no-one about at that late hour to bear witness.


	6. The Decree

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**The Dark Night of the Soul**

**The Decree**

The banishment of High Priestess Nimueh, impulsive though it may have been, divided Camelot in the space of a single afternoon. Tristan Dubois' body had not even been carried from the duelling pitch before word was spreading. No-one could account for it. The reason was a mystery to all but a precious few. Followers of the Old Religion crowded up against the locked gates of the Citadel, shouting their dissent to their King, while the Knights of Camelot patrolled the perimeter on orders from their leader.

Uther stared down at the list of names he had spent the last three days compiling. Three days of stewing over what had happened to Ygraine, how Alice and Vivienne had failed to save her with all of their arts. How Nimueh, with all her power of prophecy, had hidden one vital truth from him – that she would steal his love to give Arthur life. There was only one explanation for such deception, such manipulation, such cruelty.

Evil. It was the work of evil and its goal was to destroy Camelot.

It had already made strides in that direction. The Black Knight, one of their greatest soldiers, had fallen trying to avenge his sister and now the people railed against their King, protesting the expulsion of the witch who had plotted it from the start.

Magic would be the death of them all and as ruler of Camelot it was Uther's duty to stop it.

"'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live', Sire," the Bishop quoted dutifully, standing by Uther's side as he studied the parchment. "You have been shown the way. You must not falter now."

Uther's eyes stung, feeling grainy from lack of sleep, and he rubbed at them to try to clear his vision. Too many names sat before him, each and every one known to use magic or suspected of doing so. Each one weighed heavy on his shoulders. Too many were familiar to him.

Alice, whose power had failed Ygraine at the crucial moment. Gaius, a friend and ally for more years than Uther cared to count. Vivienne, who hadn't looked him in the eye since their... indiscretion. God, how his stomach roiled every time he thought of that night.

Uther shook himself. "Thank you for your assistance, Your Grace," he said stiffly. "That will be all."

The bishop inclined his head respectfully and made his exit, his purple robes rustling in his wake. Uther watched him leave, weighing the man's words carefully, for he knew them to be a mixture of truth and agenda. The priests of the New Religion did not approve of the continuing existence of its predecessor. They discouraged their flock from accepting their neighbours' belief in the ancient gods.

Most importantly, they considered magic to be heresy, a blasphemous act. They condemned it and it had taken no more than hearing that Nimueh had been banished for the bishop to start whispering in the King's ear, urging him to take action against the pagan rabble.

Uther glanced up at one of the guards. "Send for Gaius immediately."

The court physician arrived in short order, bowing respectfully as he made his way in. "You asked for me, Sire?"

"I want you to look over this list," Uther said, holding out the piece of parchment he'd sweated over. "Tell me if you can think of anyone I've missed."

Gaius obediently read it through, his brow furrowing as name after name registered. Alice? Vivienne? Gregor and Jaden? "My lord, I'm afraid I don't understand."

"These people use magic, Gaius," Uther snapped as he surged to his feet, pacing the room like a restless predator.

"As do I," Gaius replied in puzzlement, a thread of trepidation coiling within him as he watched the King sweep back and forth across the room. "Sire, what is going on?"

Uther's expression became unreadable. "Magic can no longer be tolerated in Camelot. It is evil."

Gaius' heart skipped a beat. "My lord... surely you cannot mean that," he said in shock.

"Look at what magic has done to my kingdom," Uther said heatedly, striding to the window to gesture at the rioting crowds. "It is rotting us from the inside out, corrupting the very hearts of the people. It will not be tolerated within my borders."

"Sire, what do you intend to do with the people on this list?" Gaius asked insistently.

Uther did not answer straight away and he would not look at Gaius. "They are to be arrested for their crimes. They shall be executed."

Gaius' blood ran cold as his eyes lingered on Alice's name. He could not speak, the tightness in his chest rendering his mute. A million thoughts ran through his mind. It was madness, utter madness.

"Sire, there is no law prohibiting magic in Camelot," Gaius pointed out, desperation lending him the strength to force the words past the paralysis he felt.

Finally, Uther met Gaius' eyes. "There is now."

"I notice that I am on here. Do you mean to arrest me as well, my lord?" Gaius asked, his heart thundering with growing fear as he awaited the King's answer.

Uther walked over to him slowly and searched the physician's face. "You have served me faithfully for many years, Gaius. You have saved my life on countless occasions. You warned me against using magic to conceive my son –"

"I was not alone in issuing those warnings," Gaius reminded him quickly.

"Perhaps," Uther conceded, placing his hands on Gaius' shoulders, "but your loyalty alone is beyond any doubt."

Gaius bit back an argumentative reply, knowing Uther's temper. One could only question so much before the King's displeasure overrode his good sense. "Thank you, my lord," Gaius said, swallowing down the worry that threatened to choke him.

"Swear to me that you shall never use magic again from this moment forward."

Gaius was taken aback, both by the demand and its implications. It was clemency, plain and simple - an opportunity to forswear everything he had believed since his infancy, and survive a culling of his kind. It was a choice between life and death, which made it no choice at all.

"Sire –"

"Swear it, Gaius," Uther commanded, his gaze locked onto the healer's. Gaius could not look away and was stunned and humbled and frightened by the pleading he saw in the King's face. Uther had no wish to watch his circle of trust dwindle any further.

It was with a heavy heart and a churning gut that Gaius did as he was asked and watched the King strike his name from the list.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

_By order of King Uther Pendragon, the use of magic is hereby outlawed within the borders of the kingdom of Camelot on pain of death._

That was the general gist of the royal decree handed down from the Citadel and people already outraged by the forced ejection of their High Priestess listened in absolute horror to the new edict. All the while, doors were being kicked down inside of the castle and out.

Vivienne whirled with a gasp as her door crashed inwards and soldiers, led by Sir Rhys, stormed into her chambers. Morgause was startled from her studies with Sir Rupert by the noise and Vivienne heard her cry out 'Mama!' in a tremulous, frightened voice as the men grabbed her mother, pulling her from the room.

"Sir Rhys, what is the meaning of this?" Vivienne demanded, struggling against the soldiers who held her with bruising force. The knight looked aggrieved as he faced her, sword in hand.

"I'm sorry, my lady. We act on the King's orders," he said regretfully.

"You _what_?" Vivienne cried as they began dragging her down the corridor, ignoring the little girl who was being held back by the elderly knight who tutored her. "Morgause, stay with Sir Rupert. Sir Rhys, tell me what is happening this instant. _Rhys_!"

At the same moment in the upper town, Gaius knocked frantically on Alice's door, glancing about for fear that he would be observed. By the time Alice answered, Gaius could wait no longer. He came inside and closed the door hurriedly.

"Gaius, what on earth -?" Alice began only to be hushed by her betrothed.

"Alice, there's no time. You have to leave Camelot now, this instant," Gaius told her, worry deepening the lines that wreathed his ageing face.

"Gaius, I don't understand," Alice said in bewilderment.

"The King has banned magic. He is targeting all those who wield it," Gaius told her quickly. "Soldiers are arresting everyone suspected of using sorcery as we speak."

"No..." Alice breathed in disbelief. "No, he can't."

"He is," Gaius persisted. "Please, Alice, you must go. I've managed to buy you some time but it won't be long before they come for you. You cannot be here when that happens."

"Why do you keep saying I must go?" Alice asked, realization making her frown. "Gaius, you do mean 'we', don't you? You are coming with me?"

"I cannot," Gaius said at length, his voice heavy with remorse, and watched Alice's expression cloud over with distress. "I must stay behind, my love. Someone must try to stop this foolishness."

"Why does that someone have to be you?" Alice protested, seizing his hands. "Surely if the King is targeting sorcerers you're also in danger."

"I... I have been granted clemency," Gaius admitted sombrely. "The King considers me a friend. Others are not so lucky. Even Lady Vivienne is in danger."

Gaius hadn't thought it possible for Alice to grow any paler but she managed it. "I'll pack what's necessary," she croaked and rushed to do so, the warmth of her hands leaving his and Gaius felt robbed by the loss of her touch.

It didn't take long to collect the essentials and soon Gaius and Alice were moving towards the city gates, avoiding the roads and darting between houses as swiftly as their senescent bones would allow. They could hear the commotion each time someone was taken into the soldiers' custody.

"How long do you think we have?" Alice wondered, panting from exertion as they reached the lower town. She clung to Gaius' arm, loath to relinquish contact with him until the last possible moment.

"Not long enough," Gaius said glumly, unable to digest the idea that she would soon be gone. His lovely Alice, always teasing and bright. She was the sunshine in his day and soon all would be overcast.

As if she sensed his thoughts, Alice turned into his arms and embraced him tightly. "I love you, Gaius," she whispered and he could hear the tears in her voice, felt them falling onto his shirt.

"I love you, Alice," Gaius murmured in return and held onto her for as long as he was able.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The dungeons were filling with a rapidity which was truly frightening. The knights brought in prisoner after prisoner in varying states of consciousness for those who fought back had been accorded no mercy.

Vivienne watched from her cell, chilled to the bone, the hem of her gown dirty and damp from the filth on the floor. The captives who were conscious stared when they saw her, a noble trapped in the depths of the castle like a criminal. She recognised a few. Gregor and Jaden were insensible when they were brought in, dragged like broken dolls and locked away.

It was inevitable that someone would try to use their power to escape. It was simply a matter of time. The first rumble of ancient words had Vivienne rushing to the bars to find its source.

"No, don't!" she called out.

"Why on earth not?" the man retorted as he hit the barrier again.

"What are you going to do? Blast the guards? If you harm anyone using magic to escape, you'll only justify what Uther's doing," Vivienne explained.

"I don't care as long it means I don't rot in here," the perpetrator shot back when his efforts failed. He was further down the row, too far for her to see him. "Who do you think you are anyway? You're condemned, same as us."

"My name is Vivienne," she replied honestly and heard some of the others mumble in surprise.

"The priestess Lady Vivienne?" one of the others asked, sounding slightly awed.

"Yes," Vivienne said with a nod they couldn't see, glancing around at the dank accommodations. "None are safe from Uther's wrath, it seems."

"Are we going to die, my lady?" a younger voice spoke up and Vivienne pursed her lips. He sounded so young, an adolescent at most, frightened out of his wits.

"I don't know... but I hope not."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

"Gaius, is Morgause all right?" Vivienne asked urgently when he appeared outside her cell, looking more haggard than she ever could have imagined.

"She's fine, if a little shaken," Gaius assured her quickly. "Sir Rupert has declared that Morgause is under his protection. He and Agnes are taking good care of her."

"Oh, thank the gods," Vivienne breathed, bowing her head so that her hair fell forward like a curtain. "How many people have been arrested? I've lost count."

"Over fifty, my lady," Gaius told her solemnly. "All are either suspected of or have been known to practice sorcery. The people are growing increasingly restless. I fear this may soon spiral out of control."

"That is also my concern," Vivienne agreed. "I don't believe Uther thought about the consequences of banishing Nimueh. It was an impetuous decision at best. Those who follow the old ways have not taken kindly to it."

"Indeed. Thankfully there has been no violence yet. I hope it stays that way."

"Let us all hope so," Vivienne said, biting her lower lip. "Nimueh will have returned to the Isle of the Blessed by now."

"Where Uther cannot reach her," Gaius noted, looking dour.

"Gaius, I haven't seen Alice anywhere," Vivienne whispered, looking so worried that Gaius hastened to reassure her.

"Alice is safe," he said quietly. "I was able to take her name off the King's list and get her out of the city. She is beyond the borders of Camelot by now."

"And you stayed?" Vivienne's face fell. "Gaius, I'm so sorry," she said sympathetically, reaching through the bars to take his hand. "I was looking forward to dancing at your wedding."

"We would have been honoured by your presence, my lady," Gaius replied sadly, his heart aching with the thought of what should have been. "Perhaps one day we still will be."

Vivienne gave him a bittersweet smile, patting his hand before releasing it. "I hope so. The two of you were made for each other."

"The King's rage is gaining momentum," Gaius confided, shuffling closer to the steel that divided them. "Uther grows angrier by the day. I have tried to talk to him but I fear he will soon be beyond reasoning with."

"I think I can help with that," Vivienne said, looking about to be sure the guards were not within earshot.

"What are you going to do?" Gaius asked anxiously.

"Bring back the one person who may be able to help you talk some sense into Uther before it's too late," Vivienne replied softly.

"Gorlois?" Gaius' eyebrows flew upwards. "Vivienne, if you're caught using magic –"

"I'm already slated for execution, Gaius. How much worse could it get?" Vivienne asked with asperity and Gaius had to concede the point. They could hardly kill her twice.

"Nevertheless, you must be careful, Vivienne," Gaius warned her. "There is a scared little girl in the Citadel who would like to see you again soon."

"I have no intention of dying, Gaius," Vivienne told him, a determined glint in her eyes. "I come from far too stubborn a family to give up that easily."

"Good luck, my lady."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Vivienne sat in the corner of her darkened cell, eyes closed as she concentrated on her goal. She whispered words of power, reaching out to the heart that claimed hers. The heart she had betrayed. The errant thought shattered the purity of the spell and she felt the magic unravel around her.

With a frustrated clenching of teeth, Vivienne ruthlessly shoved all thoughts of Uther and her guilt out of her mind. Focus was the key to this enchantment – focus and love, the desire to reach out to someone treasured regardless of distance.

"Gorlois," she murmured, thinking back to the last day before he'd left on the northern campaign. He'd kept her in bed for hours, teasing that he was feasting before he was forced to fast. He'd had no idea how long he would be gone and he'd been determined to make sure she could feel him for a few days after he'd left. He'd succeeded.

Vivienne felt it then, the flutter in her mind that meant she was no longer entirely in her own body. In an instant she was far away and Gorlois was sleeping before her, close to the dying fire with his men taking their rest around him. She knew he would have sentries posted, that he would wake at the slightest noise. Yet she made no sound, appearing as a spirit in the night.

"Gorlois," she murmured, her lips brushing his ear. "Wake up, my love. I need you."

Gorlois stirred, twitching as he rolled onto his back. "Vivienne..." he muttered but did not wake, drawing a faint smile from his wife.

"Gorlois." The second time she said his name he opened his eyes and focused on her. She saw confusion darken his expression. "Gorlois, I don't have long. This spell will not hold. You must return to Camelot."

"Vivienne?" Gorlois stared at her incredulously but shook himself and blinked away his surprise. His wife would never cease to amaze him and there would be time for questions when next he saw her in the flesh. "What's happened?"

"Ygraine has died and Uther blames magic," she explained quickly. "He's banned sorcery and is rounding up everyone with power. He plans to execute us."

Gorlois froze as he took that in. "Ygraine is... wait, what? Us? What has he done to you?" He sat up abruptly, catching her eyes with his own. He lifted a hand to touch her but found his fingers passed right through her.

"I'm in the dungeons. Don't fear for Morgause, she's safe with Sir Rupert for the moment but you must come back and make Uther see sense before this goes any further. Please," Vivienne begged him. "Hurry."

Then she faded from Gorlois' sight, leaving no sign that she had ever been there save a burning need in her husband to return home as quickly as humanly possible, the northern plains be damned.


	7. The Fires

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**The Dark Night of the Soul**

**A/N:** _Updates may slow down to about once a week after this chapter as I've been on leave from work until now, which was great for being able to write whenever I felt the spark. Sadly, my time will be a bit more limited in future. Just FYI._

**The Fires**

The first sorcerers were executed the next morning in full view of the public. The rioting at the gates had reached a fever pitch, people screaming for their loved ones as the pyres were built in the courtyard. It seemed Uther was determined to make an example to his subjects. The crowds were crushed up against the barrier, reaching through it with straining arms, shouting and crying for mercy.

The convicted were led out by the Knights of Camelot in single file, terror on every face. The roar of the protesting crowd only grew louder, the metal gates groaning under the strain of holding them back. Pleas for mercy rang out in the courtyard, the howls growing more frantic as each captive was tied to their stake.

Uther stepped forward and stared down at the spectacle without a hint of pity. His face was stone.

"You have been found guilty of practicing sorcery and evil and have been sentenced to die by fire for your crimes," the King declared while down on the ground Sir Bors and Sir Rhys flinched, sickened by what was happening.

Gaius stood in the shadows, watching with his spirit twisting into knots of shame and woe. By rights he ought to be doomed to burn, to die alongside his fellows. They glared at him with accusing eyes as they awaited their end, some calling him traitor, others begging him to help them. All the while Gaius stood frozen, rooted to the spot by fear of the man wearing the crown.

"Proceed," Uther said flatly and the commoner horde at the gates let out a mighty bellow. The Knights stepped towards the condemned, torches in hand, and looked at each other in uncertainty until Sir Rhys barked at them to continue in a voice that sounded distinctly unsteady.

"You will pay for this!" Jaden screeched as the wood at her feet caught alight. "You have no right!" And one by one, shouts of panic and threats of revenge became screams of torment.

Uther stood on the balcony with the bishop at his side, trying to suppress the urge to gag as the scent of roasting flesh was carried to him by the wind. Even the most battle-hardened warriors looked uneasy as the odour wafted over them. Vivienne could smell it down in the dungeons and the nausea that swept over her made her double over and slap a hand over her mouth to keep the meagre contents of her stomach down.

The wailing crowd grabbed at the iron barrier that separated them from the courtyard and as one started to put their backs into it. The gates began to lift with a groan and quick as a flash people were swarming beneath it, sprinting towards their burning loved ones. The surrounding soldiers surged forth in a great wave to intervene and found themselves overrun by a mob that was several hundred strong. Uther was shouting furious commands from the terrace, ordering the Knights to stop the incursion at all costs.

Gaius ran forward as a boy, no more than ten, threw himself at Gregor's pyre, scrambling to get to the man who was writhing and screaming in pain as the flames began to consume him. Fire licked at the boy's clothes and the rough wool went up like kindling. Panicked bystanders grabbed at the lad and dragged him back, beating out the flames. The child was shrieking in pain, his face a gruesome mess of twisted, blackened flesh. Gaius hardly recognised him as he attempted to shield the child from the bedlam surrounding them.

"Edwin... hush, I know it hurts... I'm sorry..." Gaius tried to comfort the boy as the people who had helped to rescue the lad carried him away from the chaos. The child was shaking in agony. Gaius could only hope that Edwin's would be the worst injury that would result from Uther's first act of vengeance.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

When Gorlois rode into Camelot in the twilight with his force of knights and soldiers at his back, a frisson of dread crawled its way along his nerves. The streets were empty, the stalls that usually sold all manner of wares abandoned. The stillness was unnatural; a far cry from the Camelot Gorlois knew and loved. His men rode in silence, as unnerved as their leader by the change in their city.

The lower town seemed deserted and if it weren't for the light flickering from the windows, Gorlois would have thought there wasn't a soul living there. From time to time people peeked out only to duck back again, afraid they had been spotted. Afraid of retribution should they show themselves.

"Dear God, Uther, what have you done?" Gorlois muttered under his breath, his frown deepening the further they proceeded. It was as if the lifeblood had been drained from Camelot's veins.

On Gorlois' right, Sir Cadfael rumbled in disapproval. "My lord," he said quietly, "you have my apologies for thinking you mad."

Gorlois nodded at him, accepting the sentiment without question. Cadfael had not been the only one to look at Gorlois as if he'd lost his mind when he'd ordered them to follow him back to Camelot on the strength of a vision sent to him by his wife.

"Spread out," Gorlois ordered softly. "I want to know if it's the same everywhere. Do not alarm anyone. They seem frightened enough as it is."

Cadfael issued the order in a hushed tone, moving from group to group and they broke off slowly, walking their horses through the streets. Gorlois stopped only when he drew near to the Rising Sun. The tavern was calm, a state of affairs that worried him. Even on a slow night, the tavern was filled with raucous laughter and bawdy songs that would have made Vivienne blush.

Gorlois stepped inside and called out carefully. "Hello?"

There was a shuffling sound and a man timidly stuck his head out from the back room, eyes widening as he realized a noble in full mail and surcoat had entered his premises. "Y-yes?"

"You can come out," Gorlois assured him, taking a seat. "I mean you no harm. I've just returned from the northern plains." At that, the man relaxed a tiny bit. "What's happened here?" There was no way Gorlois was about to walk into the castle uninformed. It wouldn't help anyone, least of all Vivienne.

"S'not my place to say, my lord," the innkeeper demurred, hunching his shoulders defensively.

"My name is Gorlois," the knight informed him, trying to catch the man's eyes, "and I'm not here on behalf of the King. You may speak freely."

The poor man looked terribly conflicted, yearning to say his piece and terrified of what the consequences might be at the same time. The name of Gorlois was known throughout Camelot.

"My wife is in the dungeons," Gorlois added and the innkeeper gulped.

"Lady Vivienne," he realized and edged his way closer. "Yes, sire. My name's Meical. My wife's Enid." The woman in question emerged by degrees, much like a rabbit checking for predators before it left its burrow.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Gorlois said politely, trying his best to put the pair at ease. "Now please, acquaint me with what's happened while I've been away."

So they told him, stopping and starting to look around as if someone might be spying on them, and Gorlois' sense of consternation grew with every word that was spoken. They had hastened to assure him that Vivienne had not been among those executed that morning but there were many holes in their story, things they could not explain.

"Then the Black Knight challenged the King, sire," Enid said quickly. "They're saying he blamed the King for the Queen dying but no-one can figure out how that works. It happens sometimes and there's nothing anyone can do. Even Mistress Alice."

Gorlois' guts churned. "Tristan fought Uther?" The cold feeling in his chest was spreading.

"Yes, my lord," Meical said gravely. "He lost. Some are saying the High Priestess Nimueh bewitched him, that she made him do it."

"Why do they say that?" Gorlois prompted him, forcing himself to focus on the issue at hand and not his friend's demise with a great deal of effort.

"The King banished her after the duel," Meical said, his gaze on the floor. "Cast her out of Camelot on pain of death. Three days later he rounds up anyone he can find with magic and throws them in the dungeons. He... he executed twelve by fire this morning. That's when the riot broke out. Now an announcement's gone out that twelve more die in the morning and anyone who interferes will suffer the same."

"The dungeons are full to bursting with people who tried to stop it, my lord," Enid said, wringing her hands, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Some are saying rioters were killed by the Knights, that the King ordered them to show no mercy to those who would help evildoers."

The enormity of what had occurred in his absence overwhelmed Gorlois. It had been but a few short weeks and Camelot had been turned on its head.

What could Uther have been thinking of? God, he could understand that the man was grieving. Gorlois had known Ygraine for years and she had truly been Uther's heart and soul but to cast blame for her death upon magic as a whole? To fight Tristan Dubois in mortal combat? To punish his people for a personal loss? It was more than Gorlois could fathom.

Gorlois thanked the couple for their help and took his leave, considering what to do next. He found Cadfael waiting for him along with the other Knights.

"It's the same all over the city, my lord," Cadfael reported, clearly disturbed by what he and his soldiers had found on their sweep. "People too afraid to leave their houses. Many turned pale at the sight of a red cape."

"We must return to the Citadel without delay, Cadfael," Gorlois told him. "I have heard the tale of what went on here. There is much to be done."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Gorlois knocked on Sir Rupert's door and was thoroughly relieved when Agnes answered it. The middle-aged maid actually hugged him in relief.

"Thank God you've returned, my lord," she said happily, ushering him in. "We feared you would not hear of what has been going on here for some time."

"Never underestimate Vivienne," Gorlois replied. "Where is Sir Rupert?"

"He's at council, Sire," she informed him briskly, biting her lip.

"And where is my daughter?" Gorlois asked hopefully.

Agnes smiled at that. "Call for her. She's in the next room."

"Morgause?"

"Papa!" she squealed and then his little girl was running into his arms, clinging like a limpet, holding him so hard it broke his heart. "Papa, they took Mama away and they broke the door and there was yelling outside and it smelled really bad and... and..."

She was crying then, unable to speak as she hiccupped and sobbed and Gorlois rubbed her back, soothing her as best he could, murmuring reassurances that he was there and it would all be all right. Morgause looked up at him with her brown eyes wet and her nose running and Gorlois kissed her cheek, accepting the handkerchief Agnes gave him to clean up his daughter's face.

"Calm down, golden one," he hushed her. "Dry your tears. Mama's all right, she's just... downstairs. It's going to be fine. You'll see." And that was going to be his next stop – the dungeons. He wanted to assure himself that his wife was unharmed, to hear the story from Vivienne and the other prisoners before he went charging in to give Uther Pendragon a piece of his mind. Gaius, he'd have to speak to Gaius as well.

It took time to calm Morgause to the point where she'd consent to letting him hand her back to Agnes. She seemed afraid that he'd vanish into thin air if she let go of him and he really couldn't blame her in light of the fright she'd suffered. He hated seeing her so scared when she was usually so bubbly and full of questions. He stayed with her for another hour, stroking her hair as she showed him all the wonderful games she liked to play with the doll he'd given her.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

"Be honest, Gaius. Has he completely lost his mind?"

The healer peered at Gorlois from where he was concocting a sleeping draught for the King and sighed. "It might be better for Camelot if he had. This is hate, my lord, and it's festering with a speed I could never have predicted."

"Vivienne is of the same opinion," Gorlois muttered, pacing the court physician's chambers slowly. The anger that had sparked in him at the sight of his wife locked in a squalid cell had almost rivalled his happiness at seeing her alive and relatively well considering the circumstances. "Tell me all that you know, Gaius. I have heard the public's side of the story and Vivienne said all she could with other ears in the vicinity."

"I believe there isn't much more to say, my lord," Gaius said, sounding so very weary. "Uther wants to blame something or someone for Ygraine's death and he has found an outlet for that desire. He will not be swayed, not by me or any other member of the court."

Gorlois regarded the man thoughtfully. "Forgive me for asking, Gaius, but why are you not in the dungeons with the others?"

"The King asked me to swear an oath that I would never use magic again," Gaius replied truthfully, letting the weight of that decision show on his face. "I did as he asked. He spared me."

"Yet no-one else was given that opportunity," Gorlois presumed, his face hardening. "He started executing people without a trial and without giving them any other option."

"If I knew how to stop it, I would have done so," Gaius said helplessly.

"I know," Gorlois promised him quickly and pounded his fist against the stone wall in frustration. "Has no-one else tried to temper him?"

"No-one has attempted to take direct action that I'm aware of," Gaius speculated. "The Knights are on the verge of revolt. They have sworn to protect the innocent yet Uther has ordered them to attack and half of their number are of the Old Religion."

Gorlois gritted his teeth. "If the Knights turn on Uther, it will be civil war."

"My lord, the bishop has been by the King's side frequently during these last days."

Gorlois rolled his eyes at that revelation. "Why does that not surprise me in the least? He'd take any opportunity he could get to act against the Old Religion. He detests the competition."

"I wasn't aware faith was a race," Gaius said dryly and Gorlois almost smiled.

"My thoughts exactly. Now I think it's time I had a word with Uther Pendragon."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Uther heated the wax in the candle's flame and dripped it upon the bottom of his newest decree. He pressed his seal into it and blew upon it to let it cool, smiling to himself in satisfaction.

Finally, it had come to him – the solution to the problem of his people rising against him. It wasn't just magic that was evil. It was the religion from which it sprung. The Old Religion which had produced Nimueh and almost seduced ever-faithful Gaius away from him. The religion that encouraged the practice of magic as one of its most basic tenets. That was the source, the wellspring of corruption, and it too had to be destroyed in order to secure Camelot's future.

The Old Religion would be outlawed and its practitioners would no longer plague him. They would be eradicated before they could raise more sorcerers like those he had put to death that morning and would do again come dawn. He set the parchment down upon the wooden surface of the table and nodded, content that all would soon be right with the world.

At that very moment, Gorlois strode up the corridor towards the hall Uther occupied, looking neither left nor right at the men who lined the walls.

One thing Gorlois had learned over the years was that sometimes Uther reached a point where calm discussion or even measured debate simply wouldn't work. In those situations, there was only one path left to take and few with the clout to walk it unscathed.

Gorlois pushed open the doors to the council chamber and stalked inside, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Uther looked up. Astonishment flashed across his features at the sight of his oldest friend followed by confusion and then a wariness that made Gorlois think that Uther had just remembered who was locked in the dungeons at present.

"Gorlois, what are you doing here? Have we lost the northern plains?"

"Perhaps you would like to explain to me why you've declared war on innocent people," Gorlois said as he continued walking towards Uther, never looking away from the King's face.

There was no mistaking the simmering anger that flared in Uther's eyes. "None who practice magic are innocent. Their witchcraft eats at the very underbelly of Camelot."

"Give me one recent example that does not involve your wife," Gorlois charged him and was rewarded by a telling silence. "You summarily executed twelve people today without cause. That contravenes the most basic laws of your kingdom."

"This _is_ my kingdom," Uther growled in return, "and I will do what I must to ensure its prosperity."

"Uther, this is madness," Gorlois persisted, staring at the King's in angry disbelief. "None of those people deserved such a fate. Did your conscience die with Ygraine?"

Uther's entire body went rigid and green eyes blazed with fury as they turned on Gorlois and the King rose to his feet. "How dare you speak to me like that? I am your King."

"I will speak to you as I see fit," Gorlois replied heatedly, refusing to back down. "We were children together, Uther. I followed you from Brittany. I was at your side when you married Ygraine and I fought with you to take this kingdom. Blood or not, we are brothers, and you _will_ hear me."

Something flickered in Uther's eyes, something Gorlois could not quite classify. A glimmer of... shame, perhaps?

"Speak," Uther said finally, subsiding into his chair and Gorlois let himself breathe a little easier.

"What crimes have the prisoners committed?" Gorlois asked again. "You cannot kill someone for being born with magic any more than you can condemn me for having blue eyes."

"Sorcery of any kind is an abomination –"

"Answer the question, Uther," Gorlois interjected before the King could go any further.

"What they have used magic for is irrelevant," Uther said ruthlessly. "Magic is a force that corrupts its wielders and I will not allow it to continue to do so."

"You speak as if magic had a mind of its own," Gorlois observed, watching the King cautiously. "Uther, magic is a tool, an ability. Those born with it use it much as you use a quill or a sword. If someone means harm, they do not require magic to cause it."

"A person with a sword can only inflict harm upon their opponent – one, perhaps two men at a time," Uther argued. "It is completely different. A sorcerer can inflict harm upon thousands."

"Much as a King can?" Gorlois replied and watched Uther go still. The knight was on dangerous ground and he knew it. "Power comes in many forms and can be abused just as easily."

"I have the power to protect my people from the Old Religion," Uther retorted, the stubborn light in his eyes making Gorlois uneasy, "and I will do so as long as there is breath in my body."

Gorlois frowned as the wording of that last statement sank in. "Protect them from the Old Religion?"

Uther tossed the freshly-endorsed decree in Gorlois' direction. Gorlois snatched it up and skimmed it, unable to believe his eyes.

"You cannot possibly be serious," Gorlois said sharply. "Half of your population practices the Old Religion whether they have magic or not. You would kill them all?"

"I will not allow wickedness to thrive within my borders," Uther said, his words infused with a fervour that Gorlois had never heard from Uther's lips before.

"Half of your Knights follow the Old Religion. You would execute those sworn to serve you? Execute their families? My wife is of the Old Religion and she sits in a cell awaiting her death when she has never done anything but aid you."

"Vivienne defies me at every turn," Uther growled but Gorlois scoffed at that.

"Vivienne speaks her mind because she cares. If she held her tongue, you'd have cause for concern." Gorlois gave the King a pointed look. "You cannot lock up everyone who disagrees with you."

"She is guilty of practicing evil," Uther declared. "I cannot make exceptions in this."

"You did for Gaius."

Uther's head snapped up at that, resentment at being gainsaid written across his face. Gorlois held his ground, inwardly praying that the King would listen, would absorb what he'd said and at least consider it.

"Uther, think about what you're doing. If you put to death everyone who practices the old ways, you won't have a kingdom left. Your subjects will rebel. Your Knights will turn on you."

Uther met his eyes. "So be it."

In that terrible moment, Gorlois knew it had already gone too far to ever change Uther's opinion of magic. It was a tone he had borne witness to when he had come across religious extremists bent on forcing their faith onto others. Such men could not be reasoned with or shocked into compliance.

Uther could not be turned from his purpose but perhaps he could still be worked on. His methods could still be influenced, tempered. Gorlois abruptly changed tactics.

"Then give the people the chance to repent," the Knight suggested instead, hating himself for playing into the bishop's hands but seeing no other choice if lives were to be spared. "Let them choose to take an oath to forsake the old ways." There was a sinking feeling in Gorlois' stomach that told him this solution was far from perfect but it was a start.

"It will not change the fact that they have consorted with sorcerers."

"True," Gorlois conceded, willing the man to see reason, "but you too have dealt with sorcerers. Your son is living proof. Will you lay your head on the block, Uther?"

Uther didn't say anything for several minutes. He read his decree over and over again, lost in thought, but Gorlois did not dare push any further than he already had. It seemed an eternity before Uther claimed a fresh piece of parchment and wrote a new edict, stamping it with his seal before calling one of his advisors.

"Issue this proclamation," Uther said flatly, holding Gorlois' gaze as he spoke. "The Old Religion is forbidden in the kingdom of Camelot. All those who practice the Old Religion and wish to remain must convert to the New Religion or face the consequences."

The advisor bowed hurriedly and scurried away.

"What of the prisoners?" Gorlois asked, his thoughts on Vivienne.

"A dozen more sorcerers will be executed in the morning," Uther replied firmly. "We shall show the people of Camelot that we will not waver in the face of such rebellion."


	8. The Knights

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**The Dark Night of the Soul**

**A/N:** Apologies for the long interval between updates. It was not intentional and hopefully won't happen again now that RL has calmed down. Over halfway through! Yay!

**The Knights**

Vivienne was half asleep when she heard it. The shuffling of feet, the jangling of keys. She blinked blearily and found men in red capes moving from cell to cell, opening the doors one by one. Her heart froze in fear, her first thought that Uther had chosen to execute them all in the dead of night and get it over with.

Then she recognized Sir Bors, who held a finger to his lips in a plea for silence, and her dark eyes went wide in alarm.

"Bors, what are you doing?" Vivienne asked, rushing to the bars as the leader of the Knights of Camelot turned to key in the lock and swung the door wide.

"We must be quiet, my lady," Sir Bors implored her. "I cannot stand idly by and watch more innocent people die. We shall make for the Forest of Balor. There are caves there that we can use to hide."

Vivienne's breath caught in her throat as she realized the enormity of what he was saying. "No, the King will kill you for this!" she protested quietly. "Bors, you will be hunted down."

"I don't care," the Knight snapped, unconsciously raising his voice and clenching his teeth to get himself back under control. "I took an oath to protect the citizens of Camelot, to defend the weak, to fight for the welfare of all. It sickens me to see what our King would twist us into. He has made us murderers."

"Bors, I cannot go with you," Vivienne argued, pulling away as he tried to take her by the arm. "No, Bors, my daughter –"

"Will see you burn if you stay," Sir Bors hissed and Vivienne stopped struggling for he had hit upon the one thing that she feared more than anything – seeing her child in pain. "Gorlois has returned. Your daughter is safe. My lady, I beg you. Do not make me leave you here."

"What of the guards? The warning bell?" Vivienne asked quickly, her heart pounding with trepidation. The consequences would be dire if they were caught but to remain... when it came right down to it, Vivienne had no desire to die, to leave her husband a widower and her daughter without a mother forever.

"It's been taken care of," Bors replied grimly and she did not question him further. People were swarming out of their cells, being hushed by the Knights as they exclaimed in relief. The Knights lined the corridors, ushering people in the right direction. Vivienne found the guards snoring loudly on the ground as they passed, drugged into slumber.

"We're going to take you out in small groups," Bors explained as they neared the stairs that led to the upper levels of the Citadel. "No more than five or six at a time so we can hide from the sentries. We're too noticeable if we all go at once."

"Take the young ones first," Vivienne whispered urgently and Bors nodded in agreement, passing the quiet instruction back through the gathering of frightened people at his back. Slowly the youths trickled to the front, led by a lad, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, hugging his ribs as if they were hurting him. Vivienne frowned and touched his arm but he jerked away from the contact.

"Calm yourself. I'm trying to help. What's your name?" Vivienne asked softly and he turned wide green eyes on her, as if the idea that she might care enough to ask was incomprehensible.

"Alvarr," the lad replied, the hollow look on his face returning quickly.

"_Purhhaele dolgbenn_," Vivienne murmured, brushing her fingers across his ribs, and Alvarr gasped as the magic spread through his tissues. "It's going to be all right, Alvarr," she told him, trying to convince herself as much as him, but the boy only stared at her – no, stared _through_ her – as if her platitudes were offensive.

"My parents are dead," he said in a tone that plainly told her nothing would ever be all right again. In the face of such bald truth, Vivienne swallowed down the urge to try to comfort him for it would fall on deaf ears. Behind Alvarr cowered a girl maybe a year older than he and a scruffy pair of boys that Vivienne could not rightly place they were so filthy.

"Baeddan." Sir Bors waved one of his men forward. "You're first. Go quietly. Await us at the agreed place." The Knight didn't question – he simply gathered the striplings and disappeared with them. "We need to get the weakest out first," Sir Bors said as he glanced back at the huddled prisoners awaiting their escape.

"Because the strongest can defend themselves if we're caught," Vivienne surmised, nodding in understanding. "Llyr!" she beckoned and the man who had been in cell adjoining hers came closer. He quickly grasped what Bors and Vivienne wanted and started helping to sort everyone out. Knight after Knight crept up the stairs with a small band of people following behind them and with each and every departure the tension in those still left behind grew higher. Vivienne's heart was threatening to beat out of her chest. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.

The first shouts from the sentries froze the blood in Vivienne's veins. Bors whirled in an instant and herded the eleven prisoners remaining in the opposite direction.

"We can't go that way now!" Bors snapped when they panicked and tried to fight him. "Vivienne! Llyr!" The lady and man he called to didn't hesitate. They grabbed who they could and dragged them along, giving them no choice but to follow, yelling at the others to comply. They sprinted deeper into the depths of the Citadel, finally coming to a grate that cut them off from the outside world. "Tell me you can get that open somehow," Bors pleaded, his hand on his sword hilt.

"My lady," Llyr said, holding out a hand to Vivienne, who took it immediately. "Aetlætnes? Together?"

Vivienne nodded and as one they held out their hands towards the barrier. "_Aetlætnes_!" they said in unison and the entire wall blasted apart under the combined force. The prisoners stampeded through the opening before the dust had even cleared.

"We have to get to the ford in the river!" Sir Bors instructed, his remaining Knights hot on his heels as they sprinted in the appropriate direction. The condemned broke into a collective sprint, darting through the trees as fast as they could. With a frustrated grunt, Vivienne hiked her skirts up as far as she could lift them to keep up while in the distance the crooning of horns echoed through the night.

Spurred on by the knowledge that the guards would soon be in pursuit, Llyr turned and hurled spells at the ground they'd just trampled, erasing their tracks. The three miles to the river had never seemed so far in all the years Vivienne had lived in Camelot. The trees that obscured their flight from prying eyes seemed far too still, every snapping twig and rustling leaf resounding like thunder to terrified ears.

Sir Bors urged her on, both of them breathing hard in the silence, and Vivienne ignored the growing burn in her muscles as she kept running.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Persistent pounding on his door woke Uther in the dead of night. The King of Camelot shot up in bed before the source of the noise really registered and he scowled, irritably noting the absence of the warning bell. Whatever they were waking him for had better be damned urgent. Out of habit, he turned to tell Ygraine to go back to sleep only to find her side of the bed cold and empty. His heart stopped for a moment as reality caught him with him and the ache that had not left him since the night of Arthur's birth flared anew.

The knocking continued and Uther snapped. "Stop that racket!" he roared and the noise abruptly stopped. Snatching up the nearest clean shirt, Uther pulled it over his head and yanked open the door. "_What?_"

"My lord, the prisoners have escaped," Sir Rhys reported apprehensively, actually taking a step back as if distance might mitigate his King's wrath.

Uther nearly turned purple. "How many?" he thundered, seizing hold of the mail shirt his manservant had laid out for the next day.

"All of them, Sire," Rhys said uneasily and watched Uther's face twist in rage the likes of which the Knight had never seen. He thought the throbbing vein on the side of Uther's forehead might actually burst through the skin.

"Why haven't you sounded the warning bell?" the King demanded, almost spitting in fury as he buckled his sword belt and planted his crown on his head.

"We can't get to it, Sire," Rhys admitted. "The doors are locked from the inside. We're trying to break it down now. I have men pursuing the prisoners. My lord... they appear to have had help."

"Help?" Uther prompted the man through gritted teeth.

Rhys steeled himself. "It... it seems that a number of Knights have aided in their escape. At least a score of men are unaccounted for. Sir Elwyn was caught with a group of five trying to reach the Citadel gates."

The vitriol that spewed forth from Uther's mouth was unlike anything Rhys had ever heard from the King before and among the curses he heard things that made his stomach sink into his toes – phrases like 'betrayal', 'killed on sight' and 'no mercy'.

"Yes, Sire," Rhys managed to say, though he had no idea how he managed to force to words past the tightness in his chest, and followed his wild-eyed King into the darkness.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The pursuing Knights burst into the clearing just as Sir Bors and his group arrived from the other direction and all hell broke loose. The rebel Knights drew their swords but the sorcerers were faster.

"_Déadian líeg_!" Alvarr snarled, throwing every bit of strength he had into the spell, and the soldiers were hurled back as if an invisible hand had flicked them aside. Fire blazed to life in his hands, his eyes glowing with an unnatural amber light as he went on the attack. Two enemy fighters shrieked as they burned, capes swirling in a circle of flame, their horses rearing in panic.

"Alvarr, stop! _Á__styntan_!" Vivienne yelled, reaching out and the fires extinguished as if she'd crushed them in her fists. One of the others grabbed Alvarr by the scruff of the neck and shoved him forward, cursing him for a fool. Bors charged into the fray, blocking the swing of a mace as it came down towards one of the women.

The Knights' cries and the clashing of swords alerted the other soldiers in the vicinity, who came charging in from every direction, weapons drawn.

"Vivienne, take them!" Sir Bors roared as he clashed with one of his former comrades.

"Hold onto each other!" Vivienne shouted. Llyr took up the call and a few seconds was all that was needed for the magic-users to realize what she intended and comply, crushing into a huddled circle. Her eyes blazing gold, Vivienne grabbed hold of the two people closest to her and incanted. "_Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard_!"

The sky roiled, the wind whipped up into a spiral of force that crashed down out of the heavens to engulf the prisoners and moments later they had vanished into thin air, the only evidence of their presence the dying winds Vivienne had summoned to aid their escape.

A deathly silence fell over the combatants. Sir Bors sagged in relief and dropped his sword, beyond caring once his purpose had been fulfilled. The others followed his example, unwilling to fight their brethren any further.

When the King arrived with Sir Rhys a few minutes later, Sir Bors did not resist arrest. Even the burning hatred in Uther's eyes not disturb the calm that had settled over him.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Vivienne's legs gave out the moment they landed, the strain of transporting so many taking its toll. She sat in the fallen leaves and took a deep breath to dispel the dizzy feeling that had overtaken her. Though she had drawn upon the power of those with her, it still left her reeling.

"Lady Vivienne?" one of them asked, crouching down in front of her with concern on her careworn face. "Are you all right?"

Vivienne nodded, waving off her worry. "I just need a minute. I haven't tried that spell in years and never with so many."

"Where are we?" Alvarr asked, still breathing hard, staring at his moonlit surroundings with suspicion. The wind rustled through the ancient trees but all else was silent.

"The Forest of Balor," Vivienne answered, sounding as unsteady as she felt. She could curl up and sleep right there on the ground. "Bors said this was where he wanted to escape to."

Sir Bors. A good man who had shouted for her to take the prisoners away though it would mean leaving him behind to taste the so-called justice she and her kind had just escaped. Vivienne's stomach knotted up and tears burned behind her eyes. He had been a good friend to her and to Gorlois for years. He had given up everything – his rank, the trust of the King, his very life – to do what he felt was right.

And Gorlois. Would he feel betrayed, as if she had abandoned him? Surely not. He didn't want to see her die any more than she wanted him to witness such a thing. As long as she stayed alive there was a chance that they could be reunited. A chance that she could sing Morgause to sleep once more.

Gorlois would keep Morgause safe. He had to. If there was one thing her husband excelled at, it was fatherhood. Their daughter had had Gorlois wrapped around her little finger the moment he first saw her and there was nothing and no-one he would fight harder to protect. Still, it made Vivienne shiver to think that Morgause – so small, so innocent – might fall victim to Uther's rampage against magic. She wouldn't understand why it was dangerous to use her gift.

"We can't stay here," Alvarr declared, his tone of authority belying his youth. "If Sir Bors was captured, he could tell them where he wanted to send us. They'll search for us here."

Vivienne forced her attention back to the boy who had attacked the King's soldiers with such ferocity. He clearly possessed a formidable well of power and it seemed that even rattled he had an instinct for taking charge. She could see others nodding, agreeing with him.

"Then perhaps you should lead the way," Vivienne suggested mildly and Alvarr gave her a sharp look, wary of a noble willingly leaving a responsibility of that magnitude up to a commoner. She didn't have the energy to worry that he might act impulsively again. They needed someone to lead and no-one else was stepping up to do so.

Vivienne held Alvarr's gaze for a long moment until he eventually nodded, accepting that she was serious.

"We can follow the river west," Alvarr said at last. "To the Isle of the Blessed." His lips thinned. "My mother said they give sanctuary there.'

Vivienne smiled a little. Nimueh would never deny her a place at the Isle and those with her would certainly be welcome. "Indeed they do. My sister would not turn away anyone with magic."

"Your sister?" Alvarr asked with a frown, clearly unaware of Vivienne's connections in that regard.

"The High Priestess Nimueh," one of the others whispered reverently. "She'd really give us shelter, my lady?"

"The Isle is home to all who embrace the Old Religion," Vivienne replied, lips curving upwards at the thought of Nimueh, who was undoubtedly seething over Uther's banishment of her. She wondered if Nimueh was aware of what had happened in Camelot since she'd been thrown from the court. "It's independent of any kingdom. Uther has no authority there."

Alvarr regarded Vivienne critically and the priestess found herself admiring the lad's spirit. He had a knack for making decisions that others in their group, some twice his age, lacked. His judgement needed some work if his fiery attack on the soldiers was anything to go by but time would remedy that with the proper guidance.

"Then it's settled," Alvarr said after a few more moments of consideration. "We make for the Isle."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

"Find them," Uther snarled, pacing the width of his throne room. "I don't care what it takes. Hunt the sorcerers down and bring them back. They will burn as I promised."

"Sire..." Sir Rhys spoke up carefully. "What of the Knights who assisted in the escape?"

Uther's glare should have flayed Rhys alive where he stood. "They are Knights no longer. Let it be known throughout the kingdom that they are forthwith stripped of their lands and titles. They shall be hanged for treason this very day. _Is that clear?_"

"Yes, my lord," Sir Rhys said with a small nod, inwardly cringing away from his King's fury.

Uther stepped forward and put his hand on Rhys' shoulder in a lightning shift of mood that made the Knight nervous. "You have proven yourself loyal to Camelot today. You and your men shall be rewarded for your fidelity in the face of such an unthinkable betrayal."

"Thank you, my lord," Rhys said stiffly, wanting nothing more than to leave the council chamber and take refuge with his wife, for she had been the one thing holding him back from fighting at Bors' side. His lovely Ginia, who could be punished for his transgressions if he were to rebel. The thought nauseated him.

"Have the gallows prepared," Uther ordered and Rhys left as fast as he could without breaking into a flat run.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Gorlois stepped into Sir Bors' cell and clasped the man's arm in the traditional warriors' handshake. The Knight's cape, surcoat and mail had been taken, leaving him in nothing but his trousers and undershirt.

"Thank you," Gorlois said with all of his heart, aware that Bors had effectively sacrificed his life to do what he couldn't – save his wife and thirty others who had awaited an unjust execution. "I have tried to sway the King –"

"But he will not listen," Bors finished for him, looking resigned. "I suspected as much."

"You did a brave thing," Gorlois said respectfully, determined that Bors' nobility of spirit be properly acknowledged, even if he alone expressed the sentiment.

"I did the right thing," Bors corrected him with a shake of his head. "No matter what occurs before I face the noose, my conscience will be clear."

Gorlois was humbled by his friend's conviction. He'd been acquainted with Sir Bors for years, had seen his valour in battle. "You are the truest knight I have ever known."

For a moment, Sir Bors looked sad. "Do what you can, Gorlois. My men and I have saved a few but there will be more casualties, many more, before this is over."

"I swear on my daughter's life," Gorlois told him and Bors nodded, satisfied.

"I wish you well, my friend," Bors said with the faintest of smiles, his expression one of acceptance. "I hope that you and your lady will be reunited soon."

Gorlois tightened his grip on his comrade's arm. "There are no words, Sir Bors."

"Farewell, Sir Gorlois," Bors replied with an air of finality and Gorlois bowed out of respect and left the cell, moving on to show his gratitude to each of the men who had given up their lives to honour the Knights' Code. He would not let them go unrecognized, have them fade away into the dark and become nothing more than a footnote in someone's memory.

Seventeen former Knights of Camelot were hanged at midday, all men of the Old Religion who could not abide the persecution of their own kind. Uther watched with ice-cold eyes as each man strangled, legs kicking frantically until they finally expired. Bors was the last to have the trapdoor fall out from under his feet and Gorlois forced himself to watch every moment, to endure a small part of what Bors was suffering as the life left his body.

The remaining Knights were still as statues, watching with unreadable faces as their brethren met their end. Not one of them looked up at their King. They didn't glance at the crowd. They watched in silence and Gorlois could only imagine what they were thinking.

None among their number would fight back again. The price was too high, to vivid, too real. It hung before them, lips blue from asphyxiation. Uther had succeeded in making his point and they would henceforth obey without question.

That night, Gorlois sat down on the edge of his bed, hugging Morgause as she fought a losing battle to stay awake, and for the first time in several days allowed some of the tension to seep out of his muscles. His prayers had been answered – by whom he cared not. Vivienne was out of Uther's grasp and even if she could not be with her husband and daughter, she was safe.

And that would have to be enough.


	9. The Children

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **Wow, this is atrociously overdue. It seems all I needed was a fresh ep of _Merlin_ to get the creative juices flowing again! The events of 4.01 make this story officially AU as Tristan was Ygraine's only brother in my 'verse. This chapter is long enough to be split in two but what the hell, huh? I made you wait long enough. I can't guarantee fast updates but I'll try.

**The Dark Night of the Soul**

**The Children**

The man who stood before Uther Pendragon did not bow. He did not cast his eyes down out of respect. He had stalked into the council chamber as if it belonged to him and gazed into the eyes of the King without a trace of fear to offer his services as a 'witch finder'.

The tall, wiry man with sharp features called himself Aredian and he made Gorlois' skin crawl, every protective instinct the knight had flaring in response to his presence. Clothed all in black, Aredian looked like a spectre of death come to claim the souls of any who crossed his path.

"Sire," Gaius spoke up, stepping away from the crowd with his hands folded, "the Knights of Camelot have done an admirable job of flushing out users of magic throughout the kingdom. I do not believe we require any additional assistance in this."

"On the surface I'm sure this appears to be true," Aredian declared in a cold voice that rang out clearly and a murmur of agreement rippled through the courtiers present. "Sorcerers are deceivers by nature. A deeper understanding is required when dealing with such an... infestation." His words dripped with foreboding.

"And where exactly did you obtain your 'deeper understanding' of these matters?" Gorlois challenged Aredian, moving to stand beside Gaius. Spine straight, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, Gorlois stood eye-to-eye with the so-called specialist. Aredian didn't blink. He turned to face the two men – healer and warrior – and his expression didn't change one bit.

Gorlois had seen his kind before on the battlefield. Mercenaries. Opportunists. Men without conscience or any code of honour to speak of.

"The war against magic is a war against evil," Aredian replied coolly and Gorlois saw Uther sit up straighter in his throne, the witchfinder's words vindicating every action he had taken since Ygraine's untimely death. In that moment Gorlois knew there would be no appealing to the King. Uther would not send Aredian away until he deemed that the man had fulfilled his task. "I have hunted sorcerers in many lands. Camelot will soon be purged of the venom running through its veins."

Gaius and Gorlois exchanged a look, both noting that Aredian had sidestepped the question rather neatly. The courtiers at their backs muttered and nodded, a hum of assent rolling through the room, and the tension in Gorlois' shoulders increased a little bit more.

"Your assistance will be invaluable, Aredian," the King said solemnly, stepping down from his throne to clap a hand on the witchfinder's shoulder. "Come, we shall see you settled."

"Later," Aredian said and Gorlois stiffened at the man's tone. It was commanding, the voice of a man who had little reverence for the authority of those around him. "Time is of the essence. With every hour that passes, magic is embedding itself deeper into the very heart of your city. Can't you smell it decaying beneath your feet, Uther Pendragon?"

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

"It's never going to be enough for him, is it?" Gorlois asked as he stared out of the window in the court physician's chambers. The outside world seemed so peaceful. To look at it one would never know that the bustling populace lived in a constant state of fear, terrified that an angry neighbour might accuse them of sorcery. "Uther is never going to stop."

Gaius' lips thinned and he looked so much older than his fifty years as he sank into his chair. "I fear not, my lord. What was once merely an opinion fuelled by grief is now a conviction, a belief. Magic is evil. Nothing anyone says will convince him otherwise."

"And what is your opinion of this witchfinder, Aredian?" Gorlois asked, glancing at the healer with genuine curiosity. It amazed him that after everything he had seen and experienced over the last five months, Gaius remained as gentle as ever. He had lost so much – his magic, his Alice – and yet he was not bitter, no slave to the desire for revenge.

"Much the same as your own, I expect," Gaius replied, opening the book he'd retrieved from the shelf. "Aredian played upon Uther's obsession quite skilfully. Fear-mongering has become something of an art form in Camelot of late."

"New reports have come in from the southern and eastern patrols," Gorlois said grimly, beginning to pace the room slowly. "More people have been caught trying to flee into Ascalon and Escetia."

"If his subjects keep abandoning Camelot for safer territories Uther won't have much of a kingdom left to rule," Gaius surmised, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for. "Certainly not enough crops to feed the remaining population."

"If there's a famine Uther will blame sorcery rather than himself, no doubt," Gorlois muttered, coming to a halt in front of Gaius. He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. For the first time in his life, Gorlois was bone-tired of fighting. He had never expected his most determined foe to be his friend.

"Sadly, I think you might be right on that score," Gaius agreed.

"I don't suppose you have a cure for insanity in these books of yours?"

"If there was a cure for madness, I could have retired a very long time ago as a very rich man." Gaius' lips twitched up at the corners in a rare show of humour and Gorlois sighed, resuming his back-and-forth rhythm. Gaius watched him carefully. "You're worried and more so than usual."

"Morgause has magic, Gaius," Gorlois reminded him, wishing for the thousandth time that Morgause could have inherited some other trait from Vivienne. "She's safe enough in our chambers but she's still a child and she doesn't think. If she does something foolish where she can be seen –"

"Morgause will do as you bid her," Gaius reassured him. "The child loves you too much to risk your anger by showing off. All you can do is reinforce how important it is that she not use her gifts in public, especially while Aredian is here."

"She's five years old, Gaius," Gorlois pointed out, aware that Gaius himself had never had children. "Five-year-olds don't always do as they're told. At least mine doesn't and I'll wager every other parent in the kingdom will say the same."

"I'm afraid it isn't going to get any better," Gaius said soberly, scratching notes onto parchment. "Not until Uther is convinced that all magic has been purged from his realm. Only then will any of us be able to get a good night's sleep again."

"Yes but how many people will die before that day comes?" Gorlois wondered, his face etched with the knowledge that many more innocents would suffer for Uther's peace of mind.

Gaius shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. "Far too many, my lord. Far too many."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Gorlois laid on his back in front of the fire, sprawled out on the rug while Morgause sat beside him making shadows on the wall with her hands. Her innocent chatter filled up the empty space, compensating for Gorlois' brooding silence. It had been far too quiet in their apartments of late.

Five months had passed since Vivienne had escaped from Camelot's dungeons and the only thing he had to reassure him that she was alive and well were the visions she sent to him from time to time, much like the one she'd used to call him home from the northern plains. Only then could he feel his wife, a ghost teasing his sensing, whispering endearments in his ear. Gorlois suspected that Vivienne had communicated with Morgause in the same fashion. The girl had said she dreamed of her mother sometimes.

God, he missed her. The world seemed out of balance without Vivienne sleeping beside him at night. Not once had it ever occurred to him that he might be left to raise Morgause alone. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought Uther Pendragon would be the one to take Vivienne away from him.

There were days when Gorlois considered simply taking Morgause, some supplies and a horse and riding away from Camelot. It was tempting. To take his daughter to a place where magic was legal would ease the weight on his shoulders considerably. To see Vivienne again, to hold her would gladden his heart and yet... Gorlois would not be the man Vivienne had married if he abandoned the people to the tyranny of a madman, for in Gorlois' mind that was what Uther had become – crazed.

"Papa, watch!" Morgause urged him, shaking his shoulder and snapping Gorlois out of his mental meanderings.

"Watch what, golden one?" he asked, sitting up and Morgause promptly plopped into his lap and started making shadows again, crossing one hand over the other and flapping her fingers.

The shadow against the wall took on a life it its own, the butterfly fluttering away towards the ceiling as the child giggled merrily, bouncing and clapping her hands in joy. Gorlois grinned and ruffled her hair.

"See, Papa?" she chirruped proudly and Gorlois scooped her up, making her squeal as he tickled her. "Papa, the butterfly's getting away!"

The sound of crashing dinnerware brought both of them up short. Morgause squeaked, startled, and Gorlois looked up to find Cara, one of the castle servants, watching the dancing shadow in horror, plates of food lying scattered on the stone floor. The maid had entered so quietly that Gorlois had not heard her.

"Cara –" Gorlois began, getting to his feet but the maid let out a bloodcurdling scream and fled from the room, her voice carrying down the corridors as she ran.

"Witch!_ Witch!_"

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The panicked shrieks of the servants roused the King from his slumber. In the next chamber, Uther heard Arthur begin wailing in distress, roused by the cacophony.

"Nurse!" Uther snarled, throwing back the bed covers. "See to my son!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" came the breathless, sleep-slurred reply from behind the door that separated his apartment from the adjoining one where Uther insisted Arthur be housed. Uther seized his clothes, fastening his trousers as the first knock at his door echoed through the room.

"What is this racket?" Uther demanded the moment he opened the door and Sir Rhys shifted uneasily, reminding Uther forcibly of the last time the knight had come to fetch him for an emergency. That had been the night that the late Sir Bors had betrayed everything he had fought for in the past – his King, his country, the people of Camelot. It still rankled that a single magic-user had escaped execution. Even Vivienne. _Especially_ Vivienne.

"Sire... a maid is claiming that she's witnessed witchcraft within the Citadel," Rhys reported. "The witchfinder has already moved to take the accused into custody."

Uther blanched, cold dread settling into his gut. That a single sorcerer could have breached the castle walls was unthinkable.

"Who?" Uther asked in a voice that could have frozen the Great Sea of Meredor.

"S-sire," Rhys stammered, looking white as a ghost. "It's the young Lady Morgause, the daughter of Lord Gorlois."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The sword at Aredian's throat didn't waver and nor did Gorlois' fierce gaze. "If anyone lays a finger on my daughter, I'll send your head back across the border in that cage you brought with you," the knight warned, all thought of loyalty to Camelot abandoned in the face of a threat against Morgause.

The child in question stood behind him, clinging to his thigh in fright with tears in her eyes.

"I am charged by your King to arrest and investigate all instances of magic in Camelot. Stand aside," Aredian commanded. No respect. Nothing but calm determination infused that voice and it made Gorlois want to slash the man's throat open just to see if he'd bleed red like a human being should.

"And God charged me to protect Morgause the day she came into this world. If your King thinks to contradict mine, he'd best come with steel for I'll not move," Gorlois warned, meaning every word. The Knights at Aredian's back looked at each other uncomfortably, suddenly faced with the prospect of fighting one of their own once again.

Gorlois sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Tristan Dubois for all the sparring sessions that had honed his own skills to the point where only Tristan could stand against him in combat and come away relatively unscathed. The Black Knight of Camelot was sorely missed by at least one of his former comrades.

"You're committing treason," Aredian pointed out, sounding eminently reasonable. "Formidable as your reputation as a swordsman may be, even you cannot defeat an army alone."

"Perhaps not," Gorlois conceded, "but I'll cut your heart out before I fall."

Morgause whimpered behind him, scared by the harsh words she had never heard from her father before. "I want Mama."

Aredian's chilly gaze came to rest on Morgause. "You can have your mother, child, when the kingdom has been cleansed."

Gorlois was a man slow to anger, preferring to act using good sense, but that comment sparked his temper as nothing else could have. The underlying promise that Morgause was too young to fathom, the implication that the girl would see her mother in the next life, set fire to Gorlois' restraint and the blade at Aredian's throat drew blood just as the King's voice boomed through the corridor.

"_Hold_, Gorlois!"

Aredian stood utterly still, backed against the wall with steel digging into his skin as blood oozed down towards his shirt. The Knights had their swords drawn but had not advanced any further, loathe to attack the man who had led them in battle so many times. Gorlois had the satisfaction of seeing sweat trickle over Aredian's temple.

"Papa..." Morgause was crying. Gorlois could feel her tears soaking into the cloth of his trousers. "Papa, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to!"

"It's all right, sweetheart," Gorlois replied, not daring to stroke her hair in comfort as he wished to. The blade dug further into Aredian's skin and the witchfinder's breathing hitched.

"Gorlois, put down your sword," Uther commanded, furious at the scene playing out before him. Behind him, Sir Rhys looked pale and grim.

"I have followed you for many years, Uther, but this is one order I cannot follow," Gorlois told him, never taking his eyes off the black-clad man at his mercy. "Let me take Morgause and leave. That's all that I ask."

"She is accused of using magic –" the King argued.

"She is my daughter!" Gorlois shot back angrily. "Ask yourself, Uther Pendragon: would you do less for Arthur if he were threatened?"

"You will leave my son out of this," Uther growled.

"Your son has been at the heart of this since before his birth," Gorlois replied sharply. "Don't forget that I know of your bargain."

It was a threat, plain and simple. Uther's eyes blazed with impotent rage as his Knights glanced at him uncertainly, pondering Gorlois' words and wondering what they meant. All it would take was a few moments for Gorlois to speak the truth of Ygraine's death, to reveal Uther's greatest shame.

"Confine the Lord Gorlois and Lady Morgause to their quarters," Uther said at last, his tone frosty. "They are to be placed under guard and under no circumstances are they to leave their apartments. They are not to be harmed."

"Yes, Sire," Sir Rhys said in relief, stepping forward to place a careful hand on the flat of Gorlois' blade and lower it away from Aredian's throat. He met Gorlois' eyes, silently pleading with the man to go quietly. It seemed an eternity before the knight stepped back, glaring at those who opposed him one by one until he was staring down the King himself.

Gorlois stood down, sheathing his sword only because he knew Rhys would not attack him now that Uther had given him leave to avoid doing so. He reached down and lifted Morgause into his arms, stroking her back soothingly as he went back the way he had come. All bravado aside, Gorlois had known he would die if he faced the Knights of Camelot alone. He had simply needed a reprieve, time to gather his thoughts and come up with a plan that didn't end in getting himself and Morgause killed, and Uther had given him exactly that.

"Don't be afraid, golden one," Gorlois whispered into Morgause's ear as the door of their chambers slammed behind them and was locked from the outside. He could feel her heart hammering, echoing the rapid beat of his own. "Papa's going to fix it."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

It was two days before Gorlois had the dubious pleasure of the King's company. Two days of interrogations and accusations and Aredian frightening Morgause into sobs.

"I allowed Morgause to remain in your care because I had hoped she was not like her mother, that she had not inherited this curse," Uther snapped. "You know the law –"

"I know that she's my child," Gorlois shot back, fury sparking in the blue of his eyes. "I tried to reason with you when you imprisoned my wife but God help me, Uther, if you try to harm my daughter I will not be held responsible for my actions."

"She is not your daughter," Uther replied, lowering his voice to a reasonable tone that sounded frighteningly like an echo of Aredian's. "Gorlois, she is a monster. A creature, not a child."

"Your son was born of magic. He lives and breathes because of it." Gorlois moved closer, holding Uther's gaze. "What does that make him?"

Uther looked away. "Arthur is not the issue here."

"No, he's not," Gorlois growled. "Uther, this is Morgause. The same child Ygraine played with. You know her. She has a gift. That does _not_ make her evil."

"_All magic is evil_," Uther hissed, his expression twisted with the hatred that had been brewing inside him for months. "It will not be tolerated in my kingdom ever again, do you understand me?"

The chill of fear that went through Gorlois was unlike anything he had ever felt before. "Uther, what are you going to do?" Images of Morgause being burned taunted him, tortured him. He could not stand the thought of it.

A knock at the door forestalled any reply Uther might have made.

"_What?_" the King snapped in frustration and the door opened to reveal Gaius. No visitor had ever been more welcome to Gorlois.

"Apologies, my lord, for interrupting but the child Morgause has been ill. It's time for her medicine," the old healer said politely, holding up a small phial of liquid.

Gorlois was not fool enough to refute the blatant lie. Gaius would not have said such a thing without good reason. "Thank you," he said gratefully and the man in question made his way into Morgause's room without any further ado.

Uther's eyes narrowed. "Morgause has been ill?"

"I hardly thought her well-being would be of any concern to you at this point," Gorlois bit out. "Others are not so callous."

For a split-second, Uther looked stung. "No matter what you may think, Gorlois, I don't do this to be cruel. You are a victim as much as I. Your wife's magic has cast this pall upon your family. It's not your doing. You are still greatly valued."

Gorlois gritted his teeth, wishing he could punch the twisted idea of right and wrong out of his oldest friend's head. How could Uther think that he would ever be forgiven for this? How could he cross this line and still believe that Gorlois would call him brother when it was over? How could Uther spare Gaius by giving him the chance to turn his back on magic but refuse others the same opportunity? The injustice of it all rankled deeply.

"With respect, Sire, I wish for you to leave my chambers," Gorlois said with forced civility.

Uther searched his face, as if he couldn't fathom what he'd said to cause offence, and finally swept out of the room without a backward glance. Only when the door was firmly shut behind him did Gorlois drag in a deep, steadying breath and stalk after Gaius.

Gorlois found the old man sitting next to Morgause by the fire, keeping her occupied with a counting game. She giggled quietly, comparing her tiny hands to Gaius' weathered ones.

"You obviously have a plan, Gaius. Why did you make out that Morgause is sick?" Gorlois asked.

"I'm sick?" Morgause piped up in confusion. "Papa, I don't feel sick."

"No, my dear, you're not sick," Gaius assured her kindly, "but we need some very nasty people to think you are. So if anyone comes in, can you climb into bed quickly and pretend?"

Morgause glanced at her father in puzzlement. "Papa says it's bad to lie."

"In this case, I'll make an exception, sweetheart," Gorlois promised. "Do as Gaius bids you."

"Yes, Papa," Morgause agreed and Gorlois told her to play with her toys on the other side of the room. Gaius' expression was grave when he met the knight's eyes.

"Gaius, what is this?" Gorlois asked urgently, keeping his voice low. "Tell me."

"Aredian has been whispering in the King's ear and very cleverly, I might add," Gaius replied solemnly. "Though he has not said so outright, he's implying that youth is no barrier to evil. Uther is slowly coming around to his point of view."

"He wants to execute Morgause?" The words, his worst fear come to life, almost strangled Gorlois.

"Not yet but I fear it will come to that," Gaius worried. "Initially Uther had no idea how to proceed after the arrest. He had not expected a child to exhibit magic. Uther may be many things but a killer of children has never been one of them. With Aredian exerting his influence that may change very soon."

Gorlois could hear the grief in Gaius' voice, the terrible burden he carried in trying to make the King see sense. It was a load Gorlois himself had shared until two days ago.

"I can't just sit here and let him put my daughter to death," Gorlois hissed in desperation.

"And you shan't, Gorlois," Gaius assured him, his manner as soothing as ever. "Though to the rest of the world, Morgause must appear to die."

"I'm listening."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

"I was given to understand that you were serious about your intention to stamp out magic in your kingdom, Uther," Aredian stated the following evening, keeping his tone light as he sat at the other end of the King's table, methodically stripping the meat off a chicken bone.

Uther looked up with his fork halfway to his mouth, as if Aredian had cut him to the quick.

"Nothing is more important to me than the safety and security of this kingdom," Uther stated firmly.

"Which is why I don't understand why the Lord Gorlois and Lady Morgause remain confined to quarters rather than imprisoned in the dungeon. Surely I've proven their guilt to your satisfaction?" Aredian continued, taking another bite of the succulent meat.

"The Lady Morgause is indeed guilty of inheriting magic from her mother," Uther confirmed, staring at his plate. "The Lord Gorlois is another matter. He has not one drop of magic in him."

"That may be so but he was aware that his daughter's very existence was a transgression against your laws and concealed it," Aredian pointed out casually, as if he were discussing the state of the stables. "Surely this is also a crime? If not against the people of Camelot, then against you personally. He has deceived you, Uther."

"The point may soon be moot," Uther replied. "The child has sickened. Gaius tells me it's a debilitating fever, one that he's not been able to cure."

"You're allowing him to treat the child?" Aredian asked with a hint of disbelief. "Isn't that a waste of resources better reserved for the innocent?"

"Gaius has been quite emphatic that as court physician it's his duty to care for everyone in Camelot regardless of their... situation," Uther said diplomatically. He met Aredian's eyes squarely. "You should be thankful that Gaius doesn't allow personal opinions to interfere with his work. If that were the case, you might find yourself in a sorry state should you be wounded."

"Yes," Aredian mused, leaning back in his chair to gesture at his surroundings. "Gaius doesn't approve of my presence in Camelot."

"Gaius is a healer, not a warrior. He doesn't always realise that stronger methods are needed to accomplish the task at hand," Uther told him in a matter-of-fact manner.

"And that is why you are King," Aredian said with a thoughtful nod. "Someone needs to make the difficult choices."

"Indeed," Uther agreed, pleased with Aredian's words.

"Your Majesty... where there is one child with magic, there will be more."

Uther froze, his meal abruptly forgotten.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Gorlois stared at the tiny bottle, watching the colourless liquid glint in the light of the fire for a long time after Gaius placed it in his hands. He turned it over and over, half-tempted to throw it into the blaze rather than use it. Such a small thing and yet it had the power to save his daughter's life... or take it, if things went horribly awry.

"Gorlois," Gaius whispered, sympathising with the knight's dilemma. "If we're to do this, it's best to get it over quickly. I must keep my visits short to avoid arousing suspicion."

"You're sure the antidote will work?" It was the third time that Gorlois had asked that question but Gaius showed no sign of exasperation.

"As long as it's administered within half an hour," Gaius reassured him. "We need only convince Aredian that she is dead. That should not take more than a few minutes." The old man sighed. "Gorlois, this is the only way. The King has ordered his men to investigate any instances where children have been suspected of witchcraft."

Gorlois swallowed hard. "Give me a few minutes with her. Please."

"Of course," Gaius said and went into the other room. "I'll alert the guard that Morgause may not survive the night. Set the stage, as it were."

Gorlois nodded and waited until Gaius was in the main room before he gently shook Morgause awake. The girl blinked up at him, her golden hair messy from sleep, and mumbled "Papa? Is it morning?" She frowned at the dark window.

"No, sweetheart. Sit up for me," Gorlois told her and lifted her into his lap when she complied, rubbing her eyes and yawning so widely he could see her back teeth. The picture prompted a bittersweet smile.

"Papa, are we going somewhere?" Morgause mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, you're going to take a trip with Gaius," Gorlois told her, every syllable stabbing at him. He desperately wanted to keep her with him but to do so would be to sentence her to death. "You'll get to ride on a horse but you're going to go back to sleep for a little while first," Gorlois murmured, kissing her hair as he rocked her gently. "And when you wake up, you're going to be very far away. You're going to see your Aunt Nimueh at the Isle of the Blessed."

Morgause blinked up at him, her lower lip trembling. "Are you coming too, Papa?" She sounded so hopeful and forlorn all at once that Gorlois wanted to say yes, just to make her smile.

"No, golden one, I'm not," Gorlois said honestly, stroking her hair with gentle fingers as he had since she was a baby, small enough to fit into the cradle of one arm. So fragile, so precious. "I have to stay here to make sure you're safe."

Moisture started welling up in her dark eyes. "Can you come later?" Her voice shook and it broke Gorlois' heart to listen to it. She was getting more upset by the second and he felt the answering tug in his gut. Morgause was all he had left – the last ray of sunshine on his horizon – and he didn't want to let her go.

"I don't know, sweetheart," he confessed and Morgause' face crumpled as she threw her arms around his neck. Gorlois closed his eyes, biting back a promise he wasn't sure he could keep.

"No, Papa, I want to stay with you!" Morgause begged and Gorlois hugged her hard, her small body quivering in his grasp.

"I want you to stay too but..." Gorlois steeled himself and played the only card he could, the only thing he could think of that might calm her. "Mama will be there with Aunt Nimueh."

It was a cruel thing to do to a child: to dangle one parent like a carrot to ease the pain of losing the other. Morgause shook her head against his neck but Gorlois knew it was a lie, could feel it in the way she tensed, clutching his shirt in her fists. She missed Vivienne bitterly.

"Listen to me, Morgause," Gorlois urged her. "A very wise man once said 'Where there's life, there's hope'. You're alive and I'm alive. I'll do everything in my power to see you again, I swear on your mother's beautiful eyes." He smiled sadly. "I swear on _your_ beautiful eyes, golden one."

"You've got pretty eyes too, Papa," Morgause mumbled miserably, her shaky voice muffled against his hair and Gorlois let himself laugh softly in spite of everything, drinking in every second he had remaining with his little girl.

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

When the King and Aredian arrived at Gorlois' chambers at Gaius' behest, they found the knight sitting by the window with his head in his hands, shaking with heartache.

Aredian wasted no time on pleasantries. He strode into the sleeping chamber to satisfy himself that the child was truly dead, leaving Uther staring at his grieving friend.

"Gorlois –"

"One word of false comfort out of you, Uther Pendragon, and you shall never speak again," Gorlois threatened in a ragged voice that sounded nothing like the man Uther had known since boyhood. He looked up, face pale and eyes bloodshot. "Are you satisfied? You've taken everything from me. My wife. My daughter. What had either of them ever done to you?"

Gorlois didn't seem to realize he'd gotten louder with every word until he was shouting, advancing on Uther until he had the King by the collar of his cape. Uther held his gaze in silence, waiting for the moment when Gorlois would fall apart, his anger rising and falling with the speed of a wave crashing upon the shore.

Uther remembered that feeling. He had experienced it the night Ygraine was stolen from him. Even months after the fact it still woke him in the night from time to time.

"I know better than anyone how this feels, Gorlois," Uther said stoically, taking hold of the man's wrist to force it to release his cape.

"She's dead," Aredian announced and Gorlois glared at the witchfinder with murder in his eyes. He let go of Uther one moment and had taken the King's sword from its sheath the next, lunging at Aredian with a speed that forced the King to act, seizing Gorlois from behind to restrain him.

"Gorlois, stop!"

Aredian nodded at the King and left without further ado. Gorlois wrenched himself out of Uther's grasp and slammed the blade against the wall, steel striking sparks against the stone before he finally sagged into a chair.

"A word, my lord?" Gaius asked as he stood on the threshold of the room where Morgause's body lay. The King cast a wary glance in Gorlois' direction before he acquiesced.

"Leave the body to me," Gaius said softly. "I'll have it removed immediately."

"Thank you, Gaius," Uther replied, touching his most loyal servant on the shoulder in gratitude.

"Word should be sent to the Isle of the Blessed," Gaius suggested. "The Prie... I mean, the people there may be able to get word to Vivienne."

"Vivienne is no concern of ours save being a fugitive from justice," Uther growled in sudden anger but Gaius did not flinch away from the King's display of temper.

"A mother has a right to know that her child has died, Your Majesty," Gaius chided him. "How would you have felt if Ygraine's death had been kept from you, even for a single night?"

Uther reluctantly nodded, chastened. "It shall be done."

"Perhaps I ought to go, Sire," Gaius offered. "I am known at the Isle and I shall not be harmed. It is forbidden to bear arms there except for ceremonial occasions."

"Nimueh resides at the Isle, Gaius," Uther reminded him, his expression darkening.

"I'm aware of that, Sire. I thought only that an ordinary messenger would not be on guard against her sorcery," Gaius reasoned. "I would prefer that Camelot not lose any of its men when it can be avoided."

Uther studied the old physician. "You detest riding for long periods."

"Most sensible people do, Sire," Gaius said dryly.

"Very well," Uther agreed at last. "Return as swiftly as you can."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

"It was fortunate that the child died before you had the opportunity to pass sentence," Aredian remarked idly. "Her poison has been lanced from your kingdom without you having to lift a finger."

"Yes, the circumstance certainly worked in our favour," Uther agreed half-heartedly, holding out his flagon so that the waiting servant might fill it with wine – the strongest in his cellar. Seeing Gorlois so broken had been sobering.

"Who knows what vile acts she might have committed in time?" Aredian said pensively, rising from his seat. "How powerful she might have become if given the chance?"

"Indeed," Uther said, clearing his throat uneasily and taking a long draught of his drink. He didn't want to think about that, not yet, but it seemed to be unavoidable.

"It does make me wonder though... how many others like her may be hiding in plain sight? I hope you have not forgotten our earlier conversation."

Uther drained his cup, the truth of the matter lashing at him like a whip. Aredian was right and the King had avoided the facts for long enough. Every sorcerer infecting his kingdom like a plague had once been a child like Morgause, apparently harmless but the wickedness in them had grown year by year. Could he hesitate to act when doing so might save the lives of hundreds?

"Morgause seemed so harmless," Uther muttered to himself, angry that he had not seen it, that the threat had been right under his nose and he'd missed it.

"Of course she did. They all do until they start bathing their hands in blood. They are born into this evil," Aredian said in that calm, chilling manner of his. "It cannot be excised from those who possess it. If they are allowed to live, these children will grow into your adversaries. They will become enemies of Camelot, sucking at the lifeblood of your people." Aredian stepped closer, seeking Uther's eyes. "They will destroy you... and your son."

Uther's breath caught in his throat at the thought.

"Gorlois' daughter was only the beginning," Aredian continued, almost purring into the silence of the chamber. "Let me cleanse your kingdom of this menace once and for all. Let me stop the seeds from taking root. Let me ensure that Camelot grows strong and true as it should."

Galvanised by the witchfinder's words, Uther had the servant refill his flagon and pour one for Aredian. It would be so much easier to pull up a sapling than an oak.

"Find them all, Aredian. Bring them to me."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

Gaius freed Morgause from her hiding place, wrapped up in the blanketed bundle strapped to the back of his horse, once they were several leagues from Camelot and safe from prying eyes. His real supplies had been dropped outside of Camelot's walls by a servant who could be trusted.

The child was quiet and unnaturally so. In all the days since her birth Gaius had never known Morgause to hold her tongue and no attempt on his part to engage her on that first day seemed to work. It wasn't until they had camped for the night and Gaius had started a fire that the girl opened her mouth.

"Is Papa mad at me?"

Gaius was taken aback by the question. "Good gods, no. Why would you think that, my dear?"

"He sends me to my room when I'm naughty," Morgause sniffled. "This is longer away than my room."

"Further away," Gaius corrected her gently, "and your father gave you to me to take you somewhere safe. Do you remember when I told you to pretend to be sick because of the nasty men?"

Morgause nodded, wide-eyed.

"Your father was afraid the nasty men would hurt you if he kept you with him," Gaius explained, not wanting to frighten the child but feeling she ought to understand a little bit about what was happening.

"But Papa's not afraid of anything!" Morgause exclaimed in disbelief.

"Fathers always fear for their children, Morgause," Gaius sighed, knowing that was the true cause of Uther's rampage against magic. Fear. Absolute, paralysing fear. "Your father loves you very much. Never forget that."

"Papa says he loves me once for every star," Morgause said with a small hiccoughing sound that Gaius thought meant tears would not be far behind. "How many stars are there?"

"I don't know," Gaius said with a comforting smile as he hugged the girl close. "Quite a few. Why don't you see how high you can count, hmm?"

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

When Gaius reached the shores of the Sea of Meredor after several days of travel, the little boat was waiting as it had before. Morgause was practically vibrating with energy, both nervous and excited to see her Aunt Nimueh again. The girl was clinging to the idea of this last member of her family like a lifeline.

They floated through the channels and Morgause stared in awe. She had never seen the Isle of the Blessed before though her parents and Nimueh had told her stories. The boat had scarcely come to a stop when Gaius heard the sound of rushing footsteps and caught sight of a familiar face.

"Morgause!"

"Mama!"

Morgause tore away from Gaius and threw herself at Vivienne, who knelt and wrapped her arms around her daughter. She hugged the girl fiercely, kissing her cheeks and her golden hair and smiling at Gaius through happy tears.

Gaius stared at Vivienne in shock as he clambered out of the boat. He had not anticipated her presence at all, though in hindsight he should have. With Nimueh for a sister, where else would Vivienne seek sanctuary?

Had Gorlois known? And if so, how?

Gaius felt some of the weight ease from his shoulders as he watched mother and daughter embrace, the ghosts of the people Uther had killed fading for this one moment. So few lives had he been able to save... and one was better than none, he reasoned sadly. Here, at the Isle of the Blessed, Morgause would be safe with her mother and aunt.

"We've been waiting for you, Gaius," a low voice told him and the physician looked up to find Nimueh passing the reunited pair, gracing Morgause with a welcoming smile and an affectionate kiss to the temple that made the girl giggle.

"My lady," Gaius greeted her. Banished from Camelot she may have been but Nimueh's rank still demanded respect.

Nimueh's impossibly blue eyes fixed on him. "You've risked a great deal to bring Morgause to us."

"I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't done so," Gaius replied softly, honestly. It was strange to be faced with the High Priestess again. He wished he could be angry with Nimueh for giving Uther the magic he'd asked for. But was she really any more culpable than he was? Uther and Ygraine had requested her help. It had not been offered.

"Come, Gaius. You're our guest tonight," Nimueh said graciously and steered him towards the same wing of the ancient fortress he had stayed in on the fateful day that he had brought the King's request. Her eyes sparkled with humour as she glanced back at her sister and niece, who had not yet let go of each other. "I'm sure Vivienne will thank you properly at dinner."

"Mama, your tummy got big!" Morgause exclaimed and Gaius swung around, startled to find that the girl was speaking the truth. Gaius tried not to stare at the unmistakable roundness of Vivienne's belly, his heart sinking at the thought that Gorlois had lost two children without realising it.

"I had no idea," Gaius murmured, mortified that a pregnant woman had been locked in Uther's dungeons.

"Don't feel badly," Nimueh said, gazing in her sister's direction with an unreadable expression on her face. "Neither did Vivienne until after she arrived."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

After his first whole sleepless night alone in the chambers he had once shared with Vivienne and Morgause, Gorlois heard the stirrings in the courtyard and moved to the window, trying to see what all the shouting was about. Grainy eyes focused on the soldiers following Aredian, easily identifiable in his pitch black garb, as they herded a group of people towards the dungeons.

No, not small people. _Children_. Their parents were being held back by force, yelling and crying for their little ones.

Gorlois' heart started pounding in alarm as he stared down at the spectacle in growing horror. At least a dozen young ones were being led – all frightened, some in tears – away from their families and there was no-one left to speak for them. Gaius was gone and would not return for days and Gorlois himself was still under house arrest.

Gorlois stormed over to the locked door and pounded on the wood with his fist. "Open this door! I have to speak with the King! Whoever is out there, I demand that you open this door or by God, I'll _break it down_!"

"Sir Gorlois, you will contain yourself!" the knight on guard duty barked from the other side.

"The witchfinder is herding children into the dungeons," Gorlois snarled. "_Children_, do you hear? You can drag me back in here by my heels once I've finished trying to make the King see reason. Just open the damnable door!"

The click of the key entering the lock stopped Gorlois just as he raised his boot to kick the thing down and the young Sir Penwyn watched him warily.

"Show me," Penwyn instructed and Gorlois didn't argue. He dragged the man to the window and pointed. Penwyn's face turned grim. "All right but you don't leave my side."

"Agreed," Gorlois said quickly, ready to say yes to anything that might get him to Uther just that little bit faster. "Hurry."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

The discussion with Uther – which had started off on a rather outraged note when the King had realized that Gorlois was not sitting obediently in his apartments where he was supposedly confined – had gone rapidly downhill as it became clear that nothing and no-one was going to sway Uther into embracing sanity once more.

Gorlois was sure no-one in Albion had been so doggedly determined to get their own way since the Romans invaded. He reasoned, he pleaded, he threatened. He played every card he could think of and every attempt was met with the brick wall that was Uther's stubborn belief that he was right. And all the while Aredian stood against one of the columns like a vulture biding his time, looking very pleased with the entire spectacle.

Gorlois wished his sword had not been taken from him. Not that he really needed it to do the kind of damage he imagined inflicting upon the witchfinder but it was a comfort to know it was there.

"You seem quite determined to undermine your King, Lord Gorlois," Aredian observed. "Perhaps there is something you wish to confess?"

"I confess I have no wish to see helpless children burned at the stake," Gorlois raged, unable to fathom how a man could be so soulless. "Have you no honour? No heart?"

"Justice has no heart," Aredian replied coolly.

Gorlois stared into the witchfinder's eyes and could find not one hint of remorse in that crystal-cold gaze. And for the first time in a very long time Gorlois, Knight of Camelot, forgot every chivalric principle and gentlemanly mannerism that had ever been drilled into him.

Gorlois punched Aredian squarely in the nose, breaking it with a definitive and sickening _crunch_. He was pleased to see the man stagger backwards, blood pouring down his face.

"Gorlois!" Uther's voice cracked through the room like thunder. "Stand down!"

The King approached his oldest friend, a man he had considered a brother, and fury that Gorlois would defy him drove his next words.

"I will tolerate this behaviour only once out of respect for the death of your daughter," Uther said in a frigid tone that left no room for mistaking him. "Challenge my decree again and I'll burn you with the criminals you defend."

King and Lord glowered at each other, neither willing to look away first.

"Sir Penwyn, take Lord Gorlois back to his chambers," Uther ordered and the younger knight none-too-gently tugged Gorlois away.

"Nice punch, sir," Penwyn said with a completely straight face though his eyes were troubled. It was an expression all the Knights wore these days. Each and every one of them hated what they were being forced to do but not one of them would disobey Uther after watching their brethren hang.

"Someone had to do it."

_m . e . r . l . i . n_

In the end, Uther didn't burn the children to death as Gorlois had feared.

He drowned them.

Uther had Gorlois brought out in shackles to watch as Aredian oversaw the proceedings. The screams of anguished parents echoed through the Citadel's courtyard, the sobs of bereaved mothers and fathers striking a chord within Gorlois as he selfishly thanked God that his daughter had escaped with her life.

By the time it was over, Gorlois was left staring down at the line of small bodies laid out in the courtyard, still dripping from being fished out of the well by the very guards who threw them in for the sake of not spoiling the water supply. Bile rose in his throat.

Not one of them could have been more than ten years old.

This was what Uther would have done to Morgause, an innocent little girl who had been delighted to find she could flick a ball of yarn about the room with her mind, much like a kitten batting it back and forth in its paws. The thought of his precious daughter, now far beyond his reach, hit Gorlois like a blow to the stomach. He stood in silence, a new resolve stiffening his spine.

Uther Pendragon would never be forgiven for his actions that day. Not by Gorlois, not by the grieving families or by anyone else who witnessed the atrocity.


End file.
